


Feels like Lightning

by Ohnemich



Category: DC Cinematic Universe, DCU, Justice League (2017)
Genre: Gen, M/M, Slow Build, Spoilers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-11-22
Updated: 2017-12-24
Packaged: 2019-02-05 08:28:56
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 25,976
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12790677
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ohnemich/pseuds/Ohnemich
Summary: Barry integrates himself into the team or as he likes to think the Justice family. Not creepy or weird at all that he has feels Victor. Yup- he should just stick with "team". Way less creepy.





	1. Eye of the Tiger

**Author's Note:**

> After watching the adorable Barry/Victor interactions I fell hard for these two. Unfortunately, there is not a lot written for this pairing yet. I am stepping out of the shadows and taking a stab at writing. This is my first ever attempt at writing so thank you for your patience with my underdeveloped writing and grammar/spelling errors. And if the Barry mile a minute run on sentences hurt your soul- I am sorry but not sorry. They feel right to me when writing Barry.
> 
> This is going to be a slow build y'all.

Barry sat in the car shoving pizza in his mouth while waiting to get to the plane. Turns out that Bruce was immune to Barry’s incessant babble and after 5 minutes of awkward questions with dead space that Barry was compelled to fill. It clicked for Barry.

He had just met Batman. Batman knew who he was and... that he was a k-pop fan with an aversion to brunch. Barry groaned inwardly as he revisited his conversation. Not a great first impression. The hell had ice dance come from anyway? And why was this a cheese pizza with no toppings? Should he really have said that he needed friends?

“Barry.”

“Yea-huh. What can I do ya for? Who’s our other team member? Who makes your bat shuriken things? Wait, is there more food on the plane? If there’s not I can pop out and go get some more snacks…”

“You’re about to eat the cardboard.”

“Oh. Uh… so about those other questions.”

“There is food on the plane.”

“Okay. Good. Hey, is this the radio?” Barry started turning the dials sparks flickered in the front seat. Barry was pretty sure his new not so talkative friend hadn’t touched the radio or he had a sick fascination with static. He found an 80’s station cranked the music and started to sing along-

“It’s the eye of the Ti-”

Click. Bruce silenced the music.

“Hey man. I know you’re like the bat and all. But you won’t talk AND we can’t listen to music? This is like the longest car ride ever. Plus I know you wanted to sing to. Yeah. I saw that whisper of smirk and your index finger start to tap.”

“Barry. We’re at the terminal.”

“Sure. Yep. That makes sense. Have I mentioned I don’t like heights? I feel like I should have mentioned that.”

_

Diana. Wow. She is intense and, oh yeah the bat signal. Barry was pretty sure his brain was short-circuiting. He had just been recruited by Batman, not crashed to a fiery death in a plane crash, met this intense Amazon lady who he was pretty sure was going to be like that awesome older sister with enough of an age gap that it was like having a super awesome mom, and he was responding to the bat signal.

Sure the cop was chatting. He was trying to follow but his brain just stopped when a flying robot showed up with news. Robot. Nope, human face. So cyborg? Yes, definitely a Cyborg. So three new friends and one of them is my age. This is… wait they’re done talking?

“Oh wow. They. They really just vanish. Oh, that’s rude.”

-

Their adventure had begun and Barry couldn't think of a better Navi to help navigate this dungeon than Alfred. Especially when they got to the bridge. He was so going to corner Alfred and get him to falsetto "Hey, Listen" on a recorder. Then he was going to recruit Victor to overriding ALL of Bruce's ringtones and alerts. He could do it himself if Victor wouldn't join, but it would be a great bonding opportunity. Right? Practical jokes build morale and strengthen friendships sayeth every sitcom ever. So it must be true.

Alfred's voice cut through his meandering thoughts with the next set of directions. "Look to your left. You should see a staircase. It will give you access to the machine room."

As they approached, Victor couldn't help his dry retort from slipping out "Define Access." Barry was excited to glimpse a sense of humor in the new team player. This boded well for his future hijinks to help super serious Bruce loosen up and cement his place in a friend group. He barely noticed Bruce talking about the bridge as he sprinted across. Of course, on the other side, he realized he'd ignored the team Captian giving the instructions. Whoopsie. At least he'd gone one at a time, yeah?

Team across the bridge. Check. Scary tall, scary very tall dude with an axe intimidating kidnapped S.T.A.R. lab personnel and flying demonic monkeys. Check. Barry was going to have to go in there. The whole team was going to have to in there. It would probably be fine for Batman. He was in the papers all the time for taking down dangerous bad guys. It might be like going from world to the Olympics, but he had practice. Diana was a bad ass amazon who was half god so she was in her element. Victor was a glorious metal robot and everyone knew robots were hard to kill otherwise the Terminator franchise would not be a thing. Plus ya know, Vater was a cyborg bad ass so Hollywood rules mean Victor's probably going to be good. Barry on the other hand... He was definitely about to have a panic attack.

Since Batman was next to him, he might as well speak up: "Right, okay. Ya know. Here's the thing. Um, see I'm afraid of bugs, and um, guns, and obnoxiously tall people, and murder. And I can't be here. It's really cool you guys seem ready to do battle and stuff. But full transparency I've never done battle. I've just pushed some people and run away."

"Save one."

"One. What?"

"Save one person."

"Uh, which one?"

"Don't talk, don't fight, get in, get one out."

"And then?"

"You'll know."

"Okay." Barry might have wanted more, but Batman's terse two-word instructions had a simplicity to them. Bruce was so certain and unwavering. It would work. Yeah, Barry would get one person and he would stop hyperventilating. Any minute now he would remember that oxygen was not a closeout item at a warehouse sale.

It was starting and dad? Yes that's what he heard Victor say. Tall scary giant called him a creature of chaos? child of mother box? That's weird and the fighting's starting. Oh god, they are fighting. Okay. He could do this. Barry just had to run fast. He had this. First up Victor's dad. Huh. Not too bad. 8 more civilians to go. In and Out. How's that jingle go? In-and-Out that's what a Hamburger is all about. And now all the civilians are out. Peace. Now what? He felt like he should go back, and good thing because Diana needed her sword. He had her back and, oh no. Wiiippeeoouuut. "Ahhh!"

Barry just got shot. He was shot by a bug and it hurt. Hadn't he said he was afraid of bugs and guns. See! Good reason!

Victor was in Bruce's nightcrawler and, huh that's a big gun, wait no. Big missile. And the tall TALL monster man caught it like a football. That's not good. And that's when Barry started to remember where they were. Oh no. Oh yes. Steppenwolf threw the missile at the wall. Of the tunnel. Maybe Barry was wrong. He had to ask "What are we under right now?"

"Gotham Harbor." Damn Bruce and his two-word answers. Barry had been hoping he was wrong. He did have a terrible sense of direction after all.

That's when Victor got the award for Captain Obvious: "You all need to move."

Diana screamed "You get him out"

As Batman hauled Barry towards the nightcrawler, he couldn't bite his tongue anymore "Also one of my fears is drowning."

In the chaos a merman. Yes, a merman appeared with, Barry was guessing here, a magical trident? It was stopping the water and he wasn't going to look too hard at this gift horse's mouth. And he was going to hold on tighter. There is no such thing as holding on too tight to a moving metal spider that's saving you from drowning. He was pretty sure the water was loud enough no one heard his panicked squeal. And that's when it happened. Victor stopped moving the nightcrawler and jetted off into the sky. So not cool. Well, the flying was pretty cool. The leaving, not so much. Maybe the adrenaline was making him see things. "Did he just bail?".

-

They were out of the fight and Barry had an inappropriate urge to start singing Survivor's "Eye of the Tiger". He was pretty sure that would be the awkward move that would get him kicked off the team right now. Merman was already ratcheting up Batman's general tenseness and what had happened to Victor. Who just leaves like that? Sure he should be worrying about the boxes like merman, Diana and Bruce. When lo and behold who returns to the scene? Victor.

He fly's down and throws the box down like he's just scored a touchdown. "He doesn't have it." Barry's forgiven him for bailing. Retrieving the last box is an acceptable excuse. It has nothing to do with that warm tingling feeling he just got watching Victor's entrance. None at all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gratuitous Zelda Ocarina of Time reference [because I can] alert: Navi- the fairy who follows Link around, often giving half-baked advice and targeting the intended enemy with like 50% accuracy. When she has advice she screams "Hey, Listen" in a high pitched fairy voice.
> 
> 11/25/17: Fixed a couple typos...


	2. A Girl, a Boy, and a Graveyard

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Barry and Victor got grave robbing duty. Barry had the sneaking suspicion it was because they were the young folk. Not that he was adverse to getting away from the grown-up drama and getting some one on one with the team member who was his own age. And a cyborg. That will never get old. Barry was going to make this time count. Which wasn't helped by the fact that he felt really weird about digging up a hero’s grave.
> 
>  
> 
> [The one where they rob a grave and Barry awkwardly babbles about Clark and Bruce]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Still new to writing. Apologies for any typos! More development of Barry/Victor. Still a slow build. Sorry if Barry's ADHD style thinking is disorienting. Not sure when the next chapter will come but hopefully in the next few days.

“Wow it’s like a cave” Barry barely uttered the exclamation before darting off in a cloud of sparks. 2 seconds later he was back. “Like a bat cave”

Barry couldn’t contain himself. So many cool gadgets. He wouldn’t be able to focus unless he touched them all. What kid could study math in a candy shop and think anything other than gummy bear, jawbreaker, chocolate, jelly bean? Not him that’s for sure. And then the vehicles. He had to start with the car. No a Batmobile. Next was...

“Barry.” Bruce the buzzkill everyone. Barry knew the world might be ending but he still had a sense of wonder. Once the world crisis was averted someone was going to have force the man to live a little or he was going to crack in a not good way. Barry was thinking psychotic break leading to one super scary misguided supervillain with too much cash and way too many contingencies. The man had almost killed Superman. Yup, Barry’s to do list post saving world: Eat all the pizza and convince Diana and Alfred to bully Bruce into relaxing. Yes-bully. Barry couldn’t see away around it.

Victor’s voice cut through Barry’s thoughts leading back to the here and now. “My father called it a change engine. It was found by the British during World War I. They studied it but they couldn’t even date it; it was so old. It was shelved till the night Superman died. Then she lit up like Christmas. They brought it to Star Labs where my father recognized it as a perpetual energy matrix.”

“Oh that sounds cool. I thought it was like a nuclear bomb.” Nice Barry, that sounded intelligent. Well, Bruce had said something about a weapon. But really? Filter. Item number three think before speaking. Wait. That wasn’t that dumb of a response. Why was he being so judgy? Bruce saw him have a panic attack and didn’t kick him off the team. Diana knows he tripped and kindly did not comment on the his face her breasts incident. Arthur seems too preoccupied with sniping with Bruce and trying to impress Diana with his confused frat boy all-star jock routine. So that leaves… Victor. Who is speaking again?

“A mother box destroys as it creates. It’s a cycle of life but a million times faster. My father thought it was the key to unlimited energy. New formulas, cellular regeneration. But it’s too volatile to control.”

“He used it on you.” Bruce tried to give Victor an out from talking about how he got his superpowers. Barry was starting to have some respect for Bruce’s ability to be emotionally supportive even when he was clearly wound, well tight. 

“I was in an accident. Should have died. My father thought he could use the mother box to rebuild the broken parts of me with a few cybernetic enhancements. Instead, he built a living machine that may be stronger than its host.”

Barry stood there. His instinct was to run over and ya know, hug the guy. He could tell by the measured delivery and the missing sentences that this was not a, oh this thing happened but it’s chill. Clearly, there were some rougher emotions and there was definitely some fear there. Barry couldn’t imagine what it would feel like to be worried his superpower might be more in control than he was. Barry thanked his lucky stars the speed force did not run code he could perceive or closed captioning in his brain. Then he focused really hard on staying put and not hugging his new teammate. Even he knew he wasn’t there with any of his team yet.

Bruce lost some of the social intelligence points Barry had given him when he started following a tangent. That is until Barry actually listened to what Bruce was saying “A boost from the mother box.”

Barry finished his thought “Could bring him back to life.” Barry could potentially meet Superman. The Superman. But like the Dr. Frankenstein version or the Jesus back from the dead version. Barry honestly wasn’t sure either were the version of Superman he wanted to meet. What he did know is that Bruce was intentionally provoking Diana. Maybe the dude had snapped. Who intentionally provokes an Amazon? Not someone thinking clearly. Poking at unclosed wounds from old relationships that sound intense and apparently ended in dead boyfriend. Not cool. Barry really didn’t want to take Bruce on and he knew Diana could take care of herself. But no one talks to his… sister mother teammate thing? Nope. Too complicated. No one talks to such a decent person like that. TIme to speak up “Ya know that if she kills you we’ll cover for her.”

Barry liked to think that helped defuse the situation. It made him feel important and useful. Really, Bruce was more distracted by his idea of bringing back the dead and ya know, the rapidly approaching end of the world. 

 

Bruce kept going. He got louder and he gesticulated. Batman waved his hands about in a manner that was definitely not stoic or composed. “The way we are going to stop him is by using his power, this power, against him.”

“I agree. I don’t like the idea of reintegrating with the motherbox and I was running the numbers while you were being an asshole and there’s a high probability we can bring him back.” Barry was impressed, Victor managed to save Bruce from more bodily harm or impassioned arm waving and call him out for being an asshat. Those were some skills.

“Right, but we mean bring him back in like a yay he’s back way not like a, like a pet cemetery scenario.” Barry was again genuinely concerned that an Atlantian, Amazon, and too intense to set my radio presets Bruce might not have considered the legit fears about coming back to life regularly addressed by Hollywood and these old-fashioned things called books. Was Frankenstein part of the Atlantian english lit? Did Amazon’s go to school? How old were Arthur and Diana anyway? Shelley could be before there time...

“You lose something when you die. Even Superman. Maybe not his mind. Maybe his soul.” So maybe Arthur hasn’t read Frankenstein but he gets the concern. That’s what counts. 

-  
Barry and Victor got grave robbing duty. Barry had the sneaking suspicion it was because they were the young folk. Not that he was adverse to getting away from the grown-up drama and getting some one on one with the team member who was his own age. And a cyborg. That will never get old. Barry was going to make this time count. Which wasn't helped by the fact that he felt really weird about digging up a hero’s grave.

Barry’s filter broke and he couldn’t stand the silence anymore. “You know I could do this a lot faster I just, is it weird that it feels disrespectful.”

“Yep.” Thanks, Victor. That’s a lot to work with. Barry figured he’d have to ease Victor, Vic, no Victor. Nicknames come after monosyllabic replies. At least he thought that’s what that social skills blog he read once said. Not that he would own up to ever being on that site. 

“Do, do you feel a sense of confidence that we’re not doing something horribly wrong and macob here?” 

“No.”

Barry panicked a little when he got another one-word reply. Barry was pretty sure minutes had gone by. Somehow he’d blown it. Victor was never going to talk to him again with anything other than perfunctory yesses and nos. They’d never be friends or… Quick, say something! If he could fill the space he could recover the verbal fumble. That’s what they called it in football? Yes. “Then why are?”

“Because I saw Steppenwolf up close. The stories Diana told us… I believe them.” Barry fought the urge to take a victory lap. Victor used two whole sentences. Barry realized he may have overreacted to what was really like 2-second gap of silence. He almost forgot that two whole sentences should be encouraged. Positive re-enforcement. He needed to say something.

“Then we’ve got to stop him.” 

“That’s the plan.” 

“That’s the plan.” Barry went for the fist bump. Victor used multiple sentences and he’d agreed to something Barry had said. This meant friends, right? Bro’s fist bumped. He was almost certain this was a thing. He kept his fist there for what felt like forever and he was left hanging.

“Okay, we’re not ready for. ::cough:: Racially charged.” Barry really needed to work on that filter. Luckily Victor came to his rescue by asking him a question.

“You got struck by lightning, huh?”

“I, Yeah that’s the abridged version. And you?” Super oversimplification but he was going to play it cool. He really wanted that fist bump. Fist bump meant friends which meant hanging out and the idea of hanging out with Victor while not digging up a body made his heart beat a little faster than its standard hyperactive tempo.

“Explosion. Woke up in a lab”

“We’re the accidents.” 

“Yeah, that’s us.”

Barry was ready for it. This was what they’d bond over. Accidental superpowers. Surely this was worthy of a fist bump. He placed his fist out and let it hang there and “Heyyyy… uh no.”

Barry sputtered and tried to come up with something new to talk about as they hoisted the box. Not a box. The coffin with the dead body they were going to magic back to life. “Have you heard the song ‘A girl, a boy, and a graveyard’ by, uh, Jeremy Messersmith?”

“No.”

“Well, it’s a song about a girl, a boy, and a graveyard. Well, okay you probably figured that out from the title. But the graveyard and this weird vibe I get about Bruce and Superman from the way he and Diana talk about him, and, well how passionate he got about, ya know, bringing him back. I don’t know its like there’s more to those two. And I don’t, but. Maybe it’s just that there’s a Frankenstein reference and. And the graveyard thing. It’s probably not. I mean that’d be a weird conclusion. And not that it means anything but Superman was supposed to have a thing with, um, well that reporter so uh… You could throw me lifeline anytime here, because I well, clearly I, stopping is not my thing, and uh, um, did, did you get a vibe?”

“No lifeline here. I’m enjoying your verbal flailing and the cute blush.” Barry was pretty sure he’d just been given the equivalent of an anti-lifeline. He couldn’t contain his involuntary- twitches and the sparks that accompanied them and his face was radiating enough heat he was confident he could cook himself a nice egg breakfast on it. He had to say something and recover but Victor had called the blush cute. Cute. Victor had talked about him and used the word cute in the same sentence.

This realization sent his brain to a nonfunctional place where filters were mythical unicorns and he began babbling “I, ah, well, um, its, I.”

Luckily Victor seemed to find this amusing as he was still chuckling when they rendezvoused with the others.


	3. Dead Man's Party

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Smooth,” said Victor. Great! The guy would choose to speak now. “Did you steal his PowerBar?”
> 
> “Blood sugar. It was an emergency. Well, it could have been. I really do need to eat a lot and snacks at the cemetery felt wrong…” He was halfway through the bar when he realized who’s snack he stole. Where was Diana anyway? She could protect him if Bruce tried to beat him up for taking the snack Alfred had packed.
> 
>  
> 
> [The one were Barry forgets to finish his sentences and the gang dabbles in resurections]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The slow build continues. A little more Diana and Arthur and filling in some of the in-between things. 
> 
> Thank you for all the support, bearing with the slow relationship development, and tolerating the typos I know are there (I am a terrible speller and spell check is not, it turns out, fail-proof)!

“So um, Batman, uh Bruce? We have the dead body that we, well, we illegally dug up from a grave in the middle of the night. Do heroes rob graves? Specifically, do heroes snatch bodies? I probably should have asked that earlier.” Barry was nervous. The adults hadn’t been on quite great terms when they’d left. He was carrying a dead body of an American hero. One could sort of see why he might be nervous. And he really did want an answer for the heroes thing. Plus his tongue had decided it wanted to channel its inner knot. One of those super crazy tight knots that fingernails can’t save and scissors are needed. Victor must think he was a moron on top of socially awkward clutz…

“Good. Now we have the body this is how we are going to get his body to the Kryptonian ship.” Barry flashed across the room to look at Batman’s screen. Of course, when he got there he realized it left Victor holding the bag, well the wooden body filled box. Oh no. He was not going to be the dude who dropped Superman’s carcass and spilled his body all over the floor. Halfway back to the box he realized he was hungry. Bruce did have that PowerBar over there and… Barry about-faced grabbed the power bar and got back to his side of the coffin. He caught the box, maybe no one would comment on his grunt and Irish jig impression to regain his balance.

“Smooth,” said Victor. Great! The guy would choose to speak now. “Did you steal his PowerBar?”

“Blood sugar. It was an emergency. Well, it could have been. I really do need to eat a lot and snacks at the cemetery felt wrong…” He was halfway through the bar when he realized who’s snack he stole. Where was Diana anyway? She could protect him if Bruce tried to beat him up for taking the snack Alfred had packed.

“Hey, so not that the bro-fest isn’t cool and all, but, um, where is Diana? It feels wrong to pet cemetery Superman without her. Somehow if she were here it’d feel legit. Not like some creepy nerd boys experiment about to go horribly wrong. Not that anyone here but me is necessarily a nerd… um.”

“She’s not coming. You owe me a snack, Barry.”

“Yikes, growling Batman. I’m gonna go, ya know, talk to Diana real quick. I’ll be-----back.” Okay, Barry, it would probably good to amend that after the world ends list to All the pizza, Bruce needs a spa day, think before he speaks and finish his sentence while he’s in the same room. That would be polite, maybe? He thought so. He should look up social norms again. Except what if Victor taps into his computer. Now that would be humiliating. Maybe he’d get a new superpower. Barry: really fast, heals quick, and now the human torch. Watch him combust into flame. Bring marshmallows, there will be smores. S’mores that’d be good. Powerbar should make a s’mores flavored energy bar. Focus Barry! “Hi Diana. I, uh, I know I don’t know you that well and my social skills are a little, um, out of sync. But end of the world and all speeds up bonding right? You are going to come, yeah? I mean it feels like you should be there. You’ve actually met Superman. No offense to Bruce but if I had a choice to a violent wake up I’d pick you to be standing there not Mr. intense and growly you owe me a PowerBar.” 

“Hello, Barry. I haven’t decided yet. You are right that Superman would prefer me to Bruce or as you said Mr. intense growly you owe me a PowerBar.”

“See you should come. Plus it’ll be, like a, a great story. It has to be a great story, it starts with ‘This one time we stole a body…’”

“Yes Barry, it will be a wonderful story if we save the world. I’ll make a choice soon.”

“So um, I guess I’ll go tell that to the guys…”

“Barry, you are a beautiful and honest person. Do not mistake being genuine and brave enough to share as being socially ‘out of sync’. Vulnerability like that is a gift. The team- Victor- may not know how to handle it at first but it is something he, they need.”

“::cough:: uh, Thanks, Diana. I really hope you’ll---- come.” Barry really had to get on that finish a sentence in the same room thing. But, he couldn’t help it. Diana’s intensity directed at him in the form of a compliment left him itching to run. And incoherent. Thanks be to all those teachers who insisted on please and thank you otherwise he might have just left. That’s when he looked at the plans Bruce had been explaining. “Wait, I’m supposed to drive a truck? I’m impersonating military personnel? You guys, like you get that this does not end well when someone realizes that I am, wait for it, NOT in the military?”

-

“So the other thing, that um, you might not know, is that I’m not so great at the driving thing. I know I HAVE a license but, well I don’t think I’ve ever driven anything bigger than compact, right? And again, what happens when they realize I am not military?”

“You run fast.” 

“Really Arthur? That’s your sage advice- run fast? Am I just supposed to push the truck with Superman’s body in it all the way in? Okay. Wait that might actually work. Militaries have alarms though, right? It would seriously limit--”

Victor cut him off, “Barry, I’ve got you. I’m going to insert you into the database. They’ll let you drive on through.” 

“Wait was that the plan all along? Why didn’t anyone say anything? I’ve been not so secretly freaking out and NOBODY says anything?”

“Entertainment” chorused the team. This was not at all comforting.

“Not cool guys.” Is this how it was going to be? Let Barry work himself into an anxiety attack for the sake of team morale. Like long-term not cool at all. But he was almost at the gate, so maybe the strategy wasn’t terrible. He had not crashed the truck into a mailbox, a tree, a wall, a lamp post, or another car. So that was a win. 

“Barry you are veering toward the lamp post”

“Oh, right, um yeah. Need to focus less on the driving part”

“Less--”

Arthur was cut off by Diana coming over the line, “I’m here for him.” Barry would have jumped for joy if he wasn’t strapped into the seatbelt. He did manage to wriggle out a halfway decent seated victory dance. The gang was back! Superman might not murder them all thinking he’d come back into some hell dimension where he was going to be tortured by an angry, no, a grumpy Batman.

“I swear I would never.” Lame apology attempt Bruce. The correct words would be ‘I’m sorry I…’

 

“Save it.” Diana was definitely nicer than Barry. He would have made Bruce read a pre-written apology declaration. But that was his style. Apparently, Diana either wasn’t ready to actually deal with Bruce or she understood how hard apologies were for him. Both, maybe? Oh, shit. He was at the gate. Okay, um, he needed to look normal, non-threatening, he absolutely belonged here. Victor better not have been lying. And, score!

“Okay, oookayy.”

-

Barry was speechless. The Batcave, that was cool. This. This was a freaking spaceship. He was standing in an alien spaceship. He had no words. Victor did though, “This is amazing.” Hells yeah it is thought, Barry.

“This is crazy,” said Arthur.

That did it. Barry’s knee-jerk sarcasm response kicked in “Oh what- now it’s crazy?” 

“You lunatics better know what you’re doing.” After Arthur’s response, Barry mentally reminded himself to remember that Arthur would be that guy who came for the ride but disavowed credit the instant things went south. Wait… that’s not quite right. He mixed metaphor there. Plus there was no way he getting on a roller coaster ride. Voluntarily strap himself into a death box on wheels? No thank you.

Victor cut through his mental tangent bringing him back to the current death and box situation. “Lex Luther fried the circuits bringing his creature to life. There’s not enough charge to wake the box.”

“I might be able to do it. I might be able to jump start it. If I could get enough distance I can conduct a significant electrical current. I might be able to wake the box. If that’s, that’s still what we want?” Barry had this. At least he was pretty sure he had this. He did charge his current pad that had a lot of screens and electronics running all at once. But were they really down to play Dr. Frankenstein? He was game, but not if the merman Mr. Aquaman was going to point fingers and deny responsibility when it was all said and done.

“We have to try,” said Bruce. Well, that was good enough for Barry. Bruce had enough money to get him a really REALLY good lawyer if it came down to it. And who’s going to fault a sweet Jewish boy for trying to save the world anyway? Oh wow, this ship is cool. This would make a great field trip. Do they let elementary schoolers tour it? Wait, probably not. It is a semifunctional piece of alien tech. Who knows what would happen if a 7-year-old touched something. PR nightmare. And that is a wall. Time to stop Barry.

 

“Must be the end of the line so I’m in position.” Barry waited. He really was expecting Bruce to take over coordinating. Instead, he heard Victor on the line.

“The mother box is ready. You have to charge it the moment it hits the fluid.” Okay. Barry could do this. They were going to countdown. He was going to run. Touch the box and not fall into the gross looking alien bathtub water. Time to count:

“5”

“4”

“3”

“2”

“1.” Barry was running. Mantra on repeat. Run, Box. Avoid tub. Run. Box. Avoid tub. He made contact with the box and he crashed into the wall. Three points for landing not in the tub. Oww. He hurt. It was already starting to heal. But ow. And wow. That countdown felt like Victor and he were the only two people for miles. Wow, intense. But good intense. Like- uh oh the ceiling is gone. So is Superman. Must be time to go. He’d process feelings later, ya know after he was sure Superman wasn't going to murder them all. 

“Please, please let it not be a pet cemetery scenario”.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, the chapter title is courtesy of Oingo Boingo.


	4. Back from the Dead

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Oh no. Should we bow? Or sh-show our bellies?” Barry knew these were stupid ideas. There had to be something though. Maybe Victor had an idea. Barry looked in his direction and the man was starting to click and move like a transformer. It didn’t quite look intentional so he had to ask, “Victor?”
> 
>  
> 
> [The one where Superman has seen Barry's underwear and the mother box has terrible timing.]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Hope you enjoy. If you can't tell I'm working my way through the movie adding details and scenes as it makes sense to me. There's only so much that can happen to the team in a few (if I'm being generous) days the movie is covering. Post-movie timeline is where the real fun will be at.

“He’s back,” Diana proclaimed while they all stood and watched. She could have second career starring horror films. Was that sing-song necessary? Barry was pretty sure she just jinxed them. Did amazons believe in jinxing something? What would you buy someone- a grog? Soda was a pretty recent invention. And wow. Superman was ripped. A little creepy floating there not speaking. No eye contact. But Barry wasn’t the best at eye contact so maybe not an issue? How glad is Superman going to be that he’s got pants right now when he realized he came to and immediately flew out to a very, very public place? 

“He’s not all right,” Arthur decreed. Okay so maybe no shifty eyes was not a good look for the man of steel? Had Arthur actually met the man before? Or was he just jittery?

“He’s scanning us.” Okay, thanks to Victor Barry was now aware that Superman was violating his right to privacy. Umm… what boxer briefs was he wearing today? He really hoped they weren’t Pokemon. Pokemon boxer briefs as a first impression was not what Barry was hoping for. How would Superman ever look at him as an adult member of the team if all he saw when he looked at Barry was Pokemon boxer briefs?!

Maybe he’d heard Victor wrong, “What?”

“Arthur you need to relax. Your adrenaline is spiking.” Wait, Victor can sense adrenaline spikes? So cool. He must have some awesome sensors. But...that means that can tell when my adrenaline is spiking and that means, um...

“Because he is not alright!” Uh-oh. Arthur’s losing it. The Atlantian with the crazy muscles is losing it. Not good, not good.

“Oh no. Should we bow? Or sh-show our bellies?” Barry knew these were stupid ideas. There had to be something though. Maybe Victor had an idea. Barry looked in his direction and the man was starting to click and move like a transformer. It didn’t quite look intentional so he had to ask, “Victor?”

Nope, Victor clearly wasn’t in a nice place when he didn’t answer and Diana ordered, “Victor Stop”.

Victor yelled, “I can’t!”

Arthur said something but Barry was so focused on what was happening with Victor he couldn’t hear. All he could think about was the edge of desperation in Victor’s voice and the clear struggle he was having with his body. A struggle Barry could do nothing about. “Victor?”

“It’s my armor’s defense system!”

“No,” Diana ordered with less certainty.

“It’s stronger since the interface. I can’t control it!”

Victor was actively fighting himself and Barry was imagining what would happen if he angered you know who. It really wasn’t good. He didn’t know how to help and it’s not like Victor wasn’t trying. “Victor. No.” escaped his lips. Then Barry saw the moment and screamed “Victor!!!”

The gun went off. Victor shot at Superman. Bad. Very Bad. Like astronomically bad. Everyone even Barry held their breath. Diana tried to keep Superman from shooting lasers from his eyes at Victor. Her soothing voice used some name with a k, uh Kal-El? And she begged like a mother desperate for their child to just go to sleep. It didn’t work. Superman was trying to barbeque Victor. This, this did not turn out in the way they’d hoped. “Pet Cemetery.” Yup this was that pet cemetery thing he’d been worried about. 

Things were not going well. Turns out Superman is Super + man for a reason. He threw Diana and Arthur around like toddlers. A little bit of effort, but realistically if he wanted to make them move he just did it. For a second it looked like 3 toddlers might do the trick. Okay toddlers should not be fighting. Uh… 3 league-ers? That doesn’t sound right either. Clearly, Aqua Man, Wonder Woman, and a Cyborg were not enough. Where the hell was Batman? Well, maybe Barry was fast enough to do something. You know sneak attack, with like shoe tying. Not that Superman was wearing shoes with laces he could tie together. But maybe there was something. 

Uh…. Superman's eyes just moved. Frick, Frack, Holy, His head is moving. Speed force is not out of Superman’s reach. Uh. Maybe if Barry just keept-. Superman THREW them! HE THREW THEM AND HE’S COMING! Oy gevalt, Barry does not do battle. He runs. He pushes. Run Barry. He hadn’t made a move to touch Superman and Superman was trying to punch him? Was he wearing something worse than Pokemon? Did Barry own anything more embarrassing than Pokemon? “Umph.”

Ow. Just oww. Barry was just going to chill here against the wall. His spine would fix itself. He was pretty sure it would fix itself. On the bright side, he’d met Superman. And it was a story. Not sure who he’d tell, but it’s not just anyone who gets thrown against a wall by Superman. Was he going into shock? Nope, it just hurt. 

“Clark,” Oh now Batman shows up. After he got chucked against the wall and the shit hit the fan. He better have a plan. If he didn’t Barry was going to steal every left sock Bruce owned. Totally an appropriate response. Yup Barry, that wouldn’t be passive-aggressive.

Maybe he wouldn’t be stealing socks. It looked like Bruce’s plan was to let Superman kill him? Oy vey. Okay. It is official. Batman needs an intervention. He clearly has lost all his marbles because Superman murdering someone is not a backup plan. Well, it is a plan, but it’s not a fantastic plan. It’s not even mediocre.

“Clark?” Who was that? He’d place her. Redhead. Redheads and Superman. Ummm… It’s that, uh, REPORTER. She’s the reporter who had this thing. Like a romantic thing with Superman. Lois. Her name is Lois. Okay, Barry wasn’t going to have to steal Bruce’s socks. His plan seemed to be working. The team looked pretty okay. Victor was in one piece. Diana was standing. Arthur was trying to not look like he’d just had his ass handed to him. Someone has got to help that man turn down the machismo.

Bruce. Bruce was not looking so good. Hopefully, someone would help him up. Barry was hoping someone would come help him up. Or he could just turn this wall into his new home. It had a view. It wouldn’t be so bad. 

“You good?” Asked Victor as he stretched out a hand to help Barry up.

Time to hop to. Barry grabbed Victor's hand, gave a quick pull, and started bouncing back and forth dusting off his outfit. This was a good sign right? Fist bump in the future type bonding? Better not try for that now though. What if Victor left him hanging again. Nope that'd be the straw to break his back. The team was not ready for the soup of emotions that would hit them like a tidal wave if he took that hit right now. Barry wasn't up for the energy that would take either. “Uh, yep, yup. I’m good. Legs still work. Um, yep. So that was weird? Do you want to, um, maybe talk about it? Like process the craziness, with, uh, words?”

Victor started to respond with what Barry decided to pretend would have been a yes. Except there was that weird vibrating wooshing sound.

Diana explained it, “The mother box. He has the last one.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title from Skylar Grey's 'Back from the Dead'. I feel like the song is a good little summary of a lot of the feels Lois has to be feeling at this point.
> 
> I really have nothing against Pokemon. But I have watched a lot of friends shame spiral over being caught playing Pokemon Go or with Pokemon memorabilia. So it seemed appropriate. Also, Barry has to rock Pokemon Go. He could totally get to those weird places no problem.


	5. Back Seat Boys

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Banjo’s. Trucks. Dead dogs, Arthur. Not kidding.” Barry did look in the rearview mirror then and Victor caught his eye. 
> 
> [The one where Vic stands up to Barry's bullies and Alfred is going to have to go grocery shopping]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for sticking with me on this! Happy Thanksgiving to those in the USA or celebrating it somewhere else! 
> 
> Now you'll know exactly WHY Arthur was so angry with Victor.

The ride back to Batcave was tense. SAT, pin dropping, cut it with a knife tense. No one was talking. Barry had a compulsion to fill silences like these. People needed to talk. Talking helped work through things. He also knew that he was sitting in back with two of the least talkative people he had ever met. Arthur and Bruce. Barry was trying not talk. He was literally biting his tongue and trying not to say anything. Maybe he could process by himself? How many laws had he broken? Nope, better not think about that. Could they stop the end of the world without Superman? He sure hoped so. There’s a new kpop single poised to drop next week and he was going to be around to hear it. Food. Were they ever going to eat again? He could eat multiple horses right now. Not that he wanted to eat a horse. Horses were sweet and silky with big eyes. A horse-shaped cake? That he could get behind.

“Barry. Stop. Fidgeting.” Bruce sounded angrier than normal. Someone should probably give the man some Advil. Human bodies were not designed to be manhandled by a Kryptonian.

“Oh, sorry. Could we take a minute and process what just happened, as a group?” Barry only dared to ask now that the talking embargo had been breached. Plus he knew if he was talking he might have a chance at sitting still. 

“No.” Came the stereo answer from the two men.

“Uh, okay. Then can we have some music?”

“No.”

“But.” Suddenly the cabin was filled with sound. It was melodic and sad with a hint of twang. Not Barry’s first choice, but he needed something to fill the sound void if he was going to not be pummeled by the two men sitting on either side.

“Victor. Turn. Off. The. Music.” Bruce and Arthur must be twins estranged at birth. The two had eerily similar deliveries. Barry hoped Victor stood his ground. If Victor didn’t, Barry might have to dive out of the moving car and he wasn’t sure he’d make it to the Batcave before he passed out because his blood sugar completely tanked.

“Driver’s choice.” Victor held his ground. Hallelu!

Diana piped in, likely to prevent the men from escalating. “Victor, it’s beautiful. Who are we listening to?”

“Patty Griffin. Rain. Anymore backseat Barry bullying and the music will get twangy-er.” Barry was stunned. That was the sweetest thing anyone had done for him in a long while. His face must look sunburned. Because there was no way he wasn’t blushing. He was also trying to figure out if he wanted to risk making eye contact in the rearview mirror or if he should just look at his shoes. He hadn’t looked at those in a while. Were they still red? But his eyes kept darting up to check the mirror. 

“Ooff. What was that for Arthur?!” Barry glared at the Atlantian. He really hadn’t deserved an elbow to the ribs. He wasn’t fidgeting OR talking. What gives man? What gives?

“Music. Your fault.”

“Banjos. Trucks. Dead dogs, Arthur. Not kidding.” Barry did look in the rearview mirror then and Victor caught his eye. He couldn’t quite bring himself to break the eye contact. It was. It was electric. If he looked away he might break the circuit. The warm feeling he was getting from the faint smile he could see on Victor’s face might go away. No way was Barry going to look away first. Except that he did. But only because the brakes hit suddenly and Barry was jolted forward. Physics, man. Also, as it happened, time to disembark in an orderly fashion. 

After everyone was out of the car. Arthur exploded, “Steppenwolf has got the third box.”

Diana stepped in with a helpful suggestion, “So we find them. If the boxes are even close to each other there’s going to be some kind of energy surge.”

Victor pointed out the obvious, “Steppenwolf is going to be keeping them somewhere they don’t read. No internet. No satellite coverage.” Barry was trying to listen and think. He was feeling a little woozy. 

He found a nice chair while Bruce responded, “Well that narrows it down.” 

Victor said something. Barry knew he heard his voice but the world was narrowing to the size of quarters and then expanding. It was trippy. And not a good sign. Oy. Arthur’s yelling again, “So you can’t find them or maybe you don’t want to?”

Barry wanted to say something, but his brain was lagging. Turns out glucose and well, energy is important for cellular reactions that allow for things like consciousness and voluntary movement. He knew that already though. He did the science. Luckily Bruce, although clearly in pain, still had a functioning brain and growled, “Arthur.”

“Yeah, that was a great way to get rid of Superman,” Why is Arthur still talking?. Do they not talk about bullying and constructive conversations in Atlantian elementary schools? That did it Barry was going to stop this. He started to move and was overcome with a wave of dizziness.

“Man, I’m not doing this on purpose,” Victor half protested half pleaded.

Arthur sniped, “Right. Because you can’t control the machine.” 

Barry had this. It couldn’t go on any longer and he was 98% certain he could stand up and remain standing. Time to shut Arthur up. Except his vision was narrowing again and he really wasn’t going to help anybody if he collapsed onto the floor. “Ah. So. Is this a bad time to bring up my blood sugar? I’m very hungry”.

Diana took the interruption as an opportunity. Barry was pretty sure Victor just got the ‘I know you can do this if you try’ pep talk from mom with the promise that she’d help on his all-nighter if she was wrong. Which was great. But Barry really hadn’t been kidding about the food, and he did not want to be the guy who faints. That would just cement his status as a lightweight. He might be a lightweight, but he wanted the option to pretend he was something else. Fainting knocked that off the table.

“Barry.” Barry’s head snapped up at Bruce’s voice, “Go find Alfred in the Pantry. When you come back, get online. Everybody checks everybody else’s work.”

\--

Barry made it to the pantry. Stumbling across the threshold and falling flat on the floor counted. 1 point for Barry. 

“Mr. Allen do you plan to dine on the floor? If you do, might I suggest rolling over? One might find it easier to feed oneself when their face was directed at the ceiling instead of smooshed into the floor.”

“Uhh. Good plan.” Barry gave a push and then backed himself up against the wall. “I think I will be starting on the floor Alfred. There’s been a dearth of snacks and a surfeit of speed force. 2 more minutes and you’ll probably be hooking me up to an IV. Juice, honey or glucose tablets please, stat.”

“I hope orange juice will suffice to start,” Alfred said as he handed him a glass. Barry shotgunned the glass and grabbed the bottle out of Alfred’s hand. He didn’t speak until he’d guzzled the bottle.

“Perfect start. I’m going to stand up and sit on a chair like a person instead of impersonating the walking dead. I’m going to need a lot more. I mean obscene quantities of calorie dense foods. The kinds that make you think heart attack on a fork and diabetes in a bottle. You could feed a small town in middle America with the amount I’m talking about.”

“Let’s get to it, shall we Mr. Allen?” Barry nodded while stuffing his face with the food Alfred placed in front of him. After devouring the first two plates of food, Barry couldn’t resist getting to know Alfred better. 

“So” Barry took another bite “Have you ever thought of hiding all of Bruce’s left socks? I, mean, I’m assuming that he’s gotten dark and broody at some point. Hence the sock stealing to dissipate any animosity that causes.”

“Mr. Allen, what is the difference between the sock placed on the right and the sock placed on the left?” Alfred waited patiently as Barry processed this question.

“Well, one goes on the right and the other goes on the left and, um, oh, yeah. He could just pair the rights together. Okay, bad idea. Does he have driving gloves? You could take all his left gloves though, right?”

“Yes, Mr. Allen. I suppose I could. Have you considered swallowing prior to talking? It’s all the rage in civilized company.”

“Oh, um, sorry. It’s just, I have to eat SOOOO much. And the questions. There is not enough time to chew and ask. Like, how did he build his giant Batcave without the contractors going, ‘huh, this looks like a secret lair Joe’, ‘it sure does Saul, what does a billionaire need a secret lair for?’? Can we pack snacks into the transport vehicles? Does Bruce have any hobbies? Do you have hobbies? What music do you like? Is Bruce, are you, a conservative, liberal, something else? I mean no one, would like, throw a fit over a rainbow flag? Or like is anyone a vegan? Do I keep Kosher? Wait you can’t answer that one. Can we take cookies with us on the way to Steppenwolf? Or maybe pie. Pie is messy and needs forks. Better stick with cookies. Or brownies. Brownies are good...”

“Mr. Allen I suggest you breathe, chew, and swallow. Repeat as necessary. There will be plenty of opportunities to sate your apparently endless curiosities.” Barry made to ask another question but was silenced when Alfred shoved a cookie in his mouth. “Eat Mr. Allen. I will try and answer some of your questions. Piecemeal work and a lot of finishing touches performed by the contractors Batman and Alfred. Yes, there will be snacks in the transports from now on. No, they will not be pie or cookies. They will be shelf stable high-calorie field rations. Hobbies, well that’s easy: Batman. For both of us. We’ll talk music another day. Neither Bruce nor I have anything against rainbows or unicorns. I suspect that’s not what you were asking, and no it wouldn’t be an issue for Bruce or I if you waved a gray flag, a shades of purple flag, a rainbow flag or whatever colors people are currently putting on flags flag. Your identity is your own, Barry, and as a person and a team member, that identity will be supported. Whatever it may be. So far no one on the team has reported themselves to be vegan. And, I believe you try to keep Kosher but will eat anything once your blood sugar has dropped including the cardboard that was attached to the twinkie you just finished. Any more questions?”

“So how bad is it that Superman scanned me? I wasn’t sure before. But I checked and, is he going to forever think of me as the Pokemon underwear kid? I mean there’s not much worse than Pokemon underwear. Is there anything worse?”

“Mr. Allen, I believe it’s much worse than you suspect. Superman is able to see through clothing.”

“So you mean, he saw my, um?” Barry reflexively moved his free hand into his lap. He knew it was a useless gesture at this point. But…

“Yes, I’m afraid so Mr. Allen. Has that answered your pressing questions, Mr. Allen?”

“Yeah, yes. Thank you. I’m sorry I ate half the food in here. And. um, Alfred could you not, um, well, could you not say anything, ya know about the well the flag, the Pokemon, and the, um, whole peeping Superman thing?”

“Mr. Allen, whatever would I say anything about? As I recall you were too busy eating to ask questions.” Barry watched the older man leave. He was pretty sure Alfred wouldn’t say anything. That seemed like a cryptic British guy way of saying ‘Sure man, it’s already forgotten.’ Barry hoped so.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In the future, I will regret the Backstreet Boy's Chapter title Pun. Right now though- standing by it.


	6. Knock Knock

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Victor opened his eyes and Barry realized he had definitely violated some personal space rule. How’d it go? Everyone has a bubble. The teacher waved her hand around her face. How far away was that. Like a foot? Oh shit. Barry’s nose was like an inch from Victor's. This definitely breaks the rule. He could have sworn he passed Kindergarten. Got a smiley face and all. He quickly jerked back to maybe still too close but less of a creeper territory. 
> 
>  
> 
> [The one where google saves the day and Barry hides under a desk.]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We are almost through the movie. 1-2 more movies and then, then the fun really starts! 
> 
> Thanks as always for the comments, support, and typo forgiveness! <3

Barry felt better. He’d made a dent in that pantry. Alfred was definitely going to need to go grocery shopping. But now Barry was ready to save the world with his google skills. He was a Millenial. This was his jam. When he flashed into the room he realized the team had apparently concurred. It was going to be him and Victor. Really that’s it? Then he saw Alfred in the corner at a station. Well, that’s cool. He didn’t want to explain how a computer worked to Arthur anyway.

He sat down in front of Victor where he was sitting on the floor. Victor appeared to be meditating on the problem. Barry leaned in and asked “Heeeyyy, um, can I help or anything? And, thank you for the car thing. Seriously.”

Victor opened his eyes and Barry realized he had definitely violated some personal space rule. How’d it go? Everyone has a bubble. The teacher waved her hand around her face. How far away was that. Like a foot? Oh shit. Barry’s nose was like an inch from Victor's. This definitely breaks the rule. He could have sworn he passed Kindergarten. Got a smiley face and all. He quickly jerked back to maybe still too close but less of a creeper territory. 

“No problem. You weren’t your normal charming self. Vitals were all over the place. Backup seemed appropriate. Vitals seem better now. Good. I could use some help. Could you look into this area?” Victor asked as he pulled a projected map up between the two of them. Barry was overwhelmed. Projected map, from his hands? His nerd heart would have skipped a beat on its own. But Barry had also heard the word charming. Add that to the cute. And well? Shit. His vitals must be spiking. Wait now he had to not only worry about blushing but like adrenaline and heart rate?! Barry wasn’t sure what to do with all that. He thought about going for the fist bump. He was pretty sure he’d get one if he waited long enough. Seriously? He’d be lucky to wait for a nanosecond before darting off dejected. Barry did not share what he’d decided to categorize as Bruce’s masochistic tendencies. 

That settled it. Barry’s hand shot across the gap between them and gave Victor’s a quick squeeze. “Yep. You got it.” Then Barry flashed across the room to take a station next to Alfred’s. 

“I see, Mr. Allen.”

“Uh, what now Alfred? What is there to see?” Barry was confused and just trying to chill. Focus. The world is ending, pull it together Barry. He glanced over at Victor and was glad to see the meditation pose had resumed and he wasn’t glaring or something worse. He really could not place what Alfred was talking about.

“Your earlier questions Mr. Allen. Perchance were they related to Mr. Stone?” 

Barry had clearly made a grave error. Turns out British sidekicks were not good confidants. They saw things. They said things. Things Barry was still, ya know, processing and dealing with despite his rapid neural pathways. Barry needed a 9-foot pole. Alfred was a crocodile, the Grinch, and… That’s not fair Barry. Those are vague questions. Alfred hadn’t stood up on the table a started chanting 'Victor and Barry, sitting in a tree, k-i-'. He might though if Barry didn’t say or do something. Brits were tricksy like that. At least he thought they were. History hadn’t been his thing. Chemical bonds and thermodynamics. Those had been his jam. And, Alfred was waiting. “Uh, Um, Well you see. The thing is. I. Uh. Maybe” Barry watched Alfred’s eyebrow rise, “Okay, maybe not maybe, sort of, kind of, but not really. Alright. Yes. Perchance. Um, there might be a teeny tiny connection between the two. Happy now?”.

Alfred nodded and laughed when Barry flashed from the chair to under the desk. Too much. It was too much. Barry’s face was red. Not pink. Santa Claus, lobster, beet, and cherry red. His heart hadn’t exploded. Yet. Sometimes it had a delayed response to mortification and emotional overload. Small spaces were good. Less space equals fewer people to ask more questions. Less stimuli. Something in his lizard brain that screamed find a cave and accepted desk as the modern equivalent. Then he heard it.

“Barry are you good? Your vitals all over the place.”

“Uh. Yeah. Victor. All good here. Nothing to see. Nothing to worry about. Just adding nuclear meltdowns to my list of fears.”

Alfred leaned down and whispered, “That, Mr. Allen, bodes well.”

Barry just glared at Alfred from his place under the desk. Incredulity plastered over his face. Was Alfred being sarcastic? He had to be, right? Barry knew hiding under a desk was not smooth, charming, or cute in anyone over the age of 3. Even at 3 it edged into an annoying inconvenience.

“Believe it or not, I had to knock on Mr. Stone to offer him a snack. Yes. Knock. Clearly, he’s paying attention to you. Which, Mr. Allen, brings me back to my assertion: That bodes well.”

Huh. That made a certain kind of sense. Okay. Alright. This could be a lot worse. He needed to stand up. Dust himself off and dive into the net. Maybe he shouldn’t sit next to Alfred though... He went back to the desk near Victor. Really, Alfred knocked. Twice released that single earlier this year. How’d it go? Knock knock Knock on my door. Hmm, definitely safer over here and, huh, maybe he really should add nuclear meltdowns to his fears list. These pictures sold scary, no horror soundtrack necessary.

He was reading about the people who had started to settle the area Victor had indicated on the map. How could people head back so soon? The meltdown was only 30 years old. The radiation levels wouldn’t have fallen to his levels of 'hey, yeah, I’ll put my pillow here and just hang. No cancer fears here.' 

Diana and Bruce had just come back to view the mini-teams findings. Victor said the where: Northern Russia, Alfred explained the why: Nuclear Meltdown, must be Barry’s turn to share with the class, “There have been some attempts to re-settle nearby. It looks like really rough sledding. Who chooses this place to put down roots?”

“People that have been kicked out of everywhere else.” Hey! Arthur came back to the party. Wonder what he’s been doing? Hopefully taking a chill pill. Maybe doing some visualizations, deep breathing exercises? Deep breathing exercises. Now that’s an idea. The difference between hyperventilating and deep breathing is what, an 8 count and, uh, belly breathing. Here goes 8 count in, 8 count out. And… they are still talking. Nope, not talking. Time to load up. He really hoped Alfred remembered to pack snacks.

-  
So the plan. It really didn’t manner how fast Victor got them there without a plan. Luckily Victor started to explain what he’d worked out, “Unity brings all three boxes together in perfect synch. Its power builds until it can’t be contained. If I can cause a delay between the boxes. Even for a nanosecond, its energy will cascade. It’ll form a loop.”

Bruce said something which was really just repeating what Victor had said. Not to knock teach back, it’s a great teaching tool and all. Barry was just more preoccupied with the simplicity of it. There had to be something more, “And that’s it? We just pull them apart. No fuss no muss?”

“Separating the boxes is still going to cause a massive surge. I’ll have to be there. But you guys should think about getting clear.” That’s not so great news Victor. Why couldn’t anything really be so simple? If they should get clear- exactly how big of a blowback is Victor anticipating? 'Oww I broke my arm level', not that Barry was confident the Cyborg could break an arm, but still, it stands. 'Broke my arm level' not so bad, 'vaporized in a 10-foot radius' was a different story. Should the team be worried? Well, probably. One doesn’t go in to stop a world-ending event without some worry. But, like what was the probability of Barry being the token team millennial? 

That’s when Barry checked in with what everyone was saying. Arthur was piping in, “Honestly I think we’re all going to be dead way before that. And you know what? I don’t mind…” Uh, Arthur doesn’t mind dying?! Barry sure as hell minded. He had every intention of being alive at the end of this. He had a list. Why would he make a list if he wasn’t going to get to it? Sure, he got that it was dangerous. Call him superstitious but starting out with ‘We’re all going to die’ was bad juju. Where was the wood? Why was there no wood in here? How else was he going to unjinx them? Deep breaths Barry. Deep breaths. 8 count. Belly breathing. Glass half full and silver linings. Uh, 1) There’s a great team. 2) Superman hadn’t killed them. 3) They had a plan. Yeah, it was going to be fine.

Suddenly, Arthur was in his face and threatening him, “Say a word about this and you’ll meet every piranha I know.” First. Bubble dude! Personal space, please. Second, he hadn’t said anything. He hadn’t even been paying attention. 

It was the best defense Barry had at the moment, “I honestly didn’t hear anything after we’re all going to die.” Also, Piranhas? Not cool. Death by a thousand bites and possible drowning? That’s just cruel. Also, does Arthur actually know any Pirahnnas? Aren’t they freshwater fish? Not that Arthur couldn’t go in in fresh water. That would make him like a witch, no a reverse witch. Salt is supposed to neutralize witches and ward against evil. Maybe they should have packed some salt just in case. He would bet his music collection that no one had tried throwing salt at Steppenwolf.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title reference and fic reference to the song "Knock Knock" by the K-pop girl group Twice. 
> 
> Barry has anxiety issues. I blame the speed force. It's like mainlining powerful stimulants and has to elevate his baseline anxiety levels.


	7. Just Keep Running, What do we do? We Run

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This, saving the world, not dying, this was worthy of a fist bump. He held his fist out and waited. Contact. Metal knuckles hit his. Mission fist bump Victor was a success.
> 
>  
> 
> [The one where Barry had a goth phase and Arthur's kind of a dick].

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We are through the movie. The next chapter might take a little longer to finish. It's coming though. Thanks for reading and sharing your reactions <3

They were there. Barry saw this giant dome thing that looked like those static electricity orbs you’d buy at Aaahs, Hot topic, or some other store that catered to angsty teens. He was not ashamed of his angsty teen days or the obscene amounts of time he’d spent in those stores. It was healthy adolescent development. And the goth thing. He blamed vampires. He was raised in a generation with vampires that ranged from bursting into flame to sparkling. So the goth thing. NOT HIS FAULT. Denial Barry. It’s a river in Egypt. And the team here, they were hip deep. No one had actually come up with a plan to get to the box. Awkward.

Bruce spoke up, “I’m going to down that tower. Knockdown that shield dome. You get to Steppenwolf. Don’t wait for me. Just do the job.”

Was it just Barry or did that sound like a poorly thought out plan? ‘Don’t wait for me’? The guy might be a little intense and not the dude Barry wanted to sit next to on a road trip. But generally around and availble to hang with would be good. Maybe Barry was jumping the gun. Alfred wouldn’t let Bruce do something patently suicidal. Unless Alfred hadn’t been stealing gloves. Then he might have so much repressed animosity. That, uh-oh. 

“He’s clearing the field,” remarked Victor. Clearing the field or lost it? There were so very many bug things. Giant. Flying. Bug things. His breathing was starting to get a little shallower. 

“He won’t last 3 minutes.” Pleased was the last word he’d chose to describe what Diana thought of Bruce’s master plan. Verkrackte would be apt. 3 minutes and then, the bugs what? Turn around and come eat Barry. Hadn’t Bruce mentioned something about fear being like evil bug catnip? Of the team, well, Barry was the member who had most recently hid under a desk in a noncombat situation. Which meant he must be the brightest fear bulb in the box. So Barry was next on the menu. He had not signed on to be lunch. Cold Bruce. Cold, dumb and meshuggah. Barry blamed Alfred. Who else would be left to haunt after he and Bruce were insect chow? It wasn’t anyone else’s fault on the team. Get ready Alfred. Barry was going to be the most annoying Poltergeist ever. Ties? All cut. Left shoes? Those are really firewood in disguise.

“On my lead.” 

Did this mean Diana was not going to let Barry become dessert? Good. Barry was giving Bruce a new theme song though. “All the hospitals”. Barry sang a few bars while the rest of the team dove head first into dang. “So wait, so watch, and say something to change my mind. I would carry out these threats; it's just too bad this time.” Hmm. Not perfect, gotta work on finding the right song. Hey, maybe Bruce just needed, like, a cat? Alfred didn’t seem to be quite enough. A Batcave cat would be pretty sweet. Bruce would fight a cat. Barry could tell. Bruce obviously fancied himself a dog person. Bruce was actually a cat people. Barry sensed these things. He pulled out his list: ALL the pizza, Bruce needs a spa day, think before he speaks, finish his sentence while he’s in the same room. Time to add a couple things real fast. Bruce needs a cat, Find theme songs, We saved the world party, and. He paused, unsure of what he wanted to write. This was an actual piece of paper and he didn’t intend on losing it. But he could be scatterbrained. And pockets had openings that things could fall out when he tripped. He would trip. And gravity would cause things to fall. Keep it vague Barry. He wrote the last item. Victor.

-

Things were going reasonably well. Bruce was not dead. Most of the team was in the area with mother boxes. Barry could only have been more pleased if Steppenwolf had decided to walk out and say ‘I have tea and cookies. Would you like some? I’ve decided to cut the umbilical cord and skip the the motherbox unity.’ No way that would happen but it’d be nice. Not that helping Victor get to the boxes wasn’t nice in a way. 

“Thanks for the lift.” 

“Yeah. No problem. You got this?” At this point, Barry hadn’t a clue what he should be doing. The plan was Victor messes with doom boxes. Barry got him to the boxes. So now, like what? No civilians in here and he didn’t have a sword. Maybe Barry should get a sword. He’d be like a super fast samurai. A superfast samurai who sliced himself in half when he wiped out. Okay. No sword then.

Victor apparently hadn’t gone a Barry samurai tangent and was still thinking about the present when he said, “These things are gonna keep coming.” 

“Okay. You get technical. I’m on bug duty.” 

“Let’s do it.” After Victor finished, Barry was off. Flashing through the area around Victor and Barry was smashing giant bugs. The guy whose manager once thought Barry was hiding a 6-year-old girl in the cabinets because of the high pitched scream Barry’d made when he saw what Barry had thought was the worlds largest cockroach. It wasn’t. These were. Also, the scream, not his finest moment. 

He smashed one of the bug things and had to stop. “Yuck. That’s gross.” Hey Barry! That’s totally growth. He’d smashed bugs and not broken glass with his scream of terror. Sure he’d done a shiver shake thing. But that was so much more manly than the shriek. Oy. His foot got stuck and he was going down. This was going to hu--

“Ah. Whoa. Thank you!” Bruce was now forgiven for almost getting Barry turned into a daily lunch special. Barry was also giving the man some serious kudos. Aiming and catching a person falling out of the speed force took serious skill. Barry was just about to really get back into the bug smashing swing of things when he heard Batman’s instructions. Civilians. Rescuing was very much in his wheelhouse. What was a wheelhouse anyway? Was it like Firestone for horse-drawn carriages? That didn’t seem right. Uh, was he running east? The sun rises in the west. No. The sun rises in the east. It sets in the west. So that means, “God, I hope this is east.”

He should add a compass to his suit. That would be helpful. Batman was definitely a cardinal directions person. Barry’s style was more of a point and gesture, and oh turn at the tree that looks like a parrot variety.

“Slowpoke.” Uh, what now? Heeeeyyyy, Superman joined the party.

“Oh, it’s on.”

“I’ll take the ones on the right.” No way was Superman winning. What do we do Barry? We run. Just keep running, Just keep running. Ughh. Now he was going to have Dory’s voice stuck in his head all day. Damn you Pixar!

He was there. A Russian family had been trying to escape and it looked like they were having engine trouble. “It’s okay.” Barry thought for a moment. How was he going to move four people? Oh no. He was going to have to thank Arthur. He did not want to give Arthur that satisfaction. Safety first though “Um. Hold on. Hold on”. The kids were quick studies and figured out what he was trying to pantomime. Here goes nothing.

Hey! It worked. Is Superman carrying an apartment building? Heh, he is Superman. Barry should probably head back. He probably should also not yell fire at the people he just saved. Of course, that was the first Russian word that came to mind. But… Oh, he had it, “До встре́чи.”

-

Barry was terrified. He understood now why people would sit around the radio and listen during the 30’s. Having the audio and sound of what was going down with the rest of the team was, to undersell it, suspenseful. He heard Superman and Victor make the plan and then. BOOM. Barry stopped breathing and his superstitious streak kicked in. He started mentally chanting, please don’t be dead, please don’t be dead.

Victor’s voice cut in, “Clark?”

“I take it back. I wanna Die.” So both Superman and Victor had made it through. They were the closest to the blast so everyone else should be fine too. Right? Right. 

“Ha. Ha. Man my toes hurt. I don’t even understand the physics of how my toes hurt.” Barry was pretty sure that was more of neurological processing issue than a physics thing. Not that he was going to say anything. Victor hadn’t been vaporized. Free pass granted for incorrect science discipline labeling.

“Children. I work with children.” She wasn’t wrong. Realistically she was older than all of them. Well, all the humans. Clark and Arthur? Barry couldn’t say. He was not going to be the one to tell Diana she was old though. He still had plans and deep desire to live and not be forced to vomit his deepest and most embarrassing thoughts. Barry knew the deep embarrassing rabbit hole ran deep. Like Mines of Moria wake the Balrog deep. No thank you. 

That’s when he noticed the ground in front of him changing. Flowers and vines were starting to emerge from the ground. The ground was literally trying to trip him. Who’d have thought his most dangerous foe would show up after the Mother boxes were separated. He made it in though, without face planting or breaking his ankle and asked, “Uh. Have you guys seen what’s going on outside?”

Turns out. Steppenwolf wasn’t quite gone yet. Barry watched as Clark and Diana did there thing. Was it murder to kill an alien from another universe? Barry would totally cover Diana. He was 75% sure he’d cover for Clark. He might not have forgiven Clark for throwing him into a wall. Someone said something about fear. What does fear have to… Ooohhh. Oh. Barry watched Diana back up. And then. Oh. So gross. The bugs. The bugs. See this was why Barry did not like bugs! The whooshing sound came again and Barry was spared from watching a person, an evil outrageously tall person, from being completely eaten. 

“Booya.” That’s right Victor, BOOYA. Everyone started climbing down from the respective places. Barry flashed in so he was next to Victor. Barry was confident. He knew this was the moment. He knew it in his bones. This, saving the world, not dying, this was worthy of a fist bump. He held his fist out and waited. Contact. Metal knuckles hit his. Mission fist bump Victor was a success.

-

Everyone loaded up into the transport while Barry inhaled the snacks. Alfred hadn’t been kidding when he’d said shelf stable high-calorie rations. They were dreadful. But fainting was worse. Then he found it. A special paper bag with his name on it and a “you’re welcome, Alfred” in the corner. Brownies. Alfred had made him brownies. The man was going to be hugged. He was like the awesome grandfather Barry had never had. Probably shouldn’t tell Alfred that though. He might be okay saying cool uncle. 

Everyone was sitting down and the transport doors were closing. Barry flashed through the cabin and sat directly next to Victor on the bench seat. Victor was partly interfaced with ship and Barry could feel the transport engines waking up.

“Hey, Barry. There are other seats. No need to sit on top of him.”

“Arthur.” Diana scolded.

Barry was up and standing before he realized he’d stood up. He shook his head trying to shake out the words while his cheeks warmed. “Uh. Um. I’m sorry man. I’ll, a go sit” Barry pointed. And flashed over to the area he had indicated. 

“You can sit here man. It’s cool. Just because Arthur needs a whole bench for him and his ego, doesn’t mean I do.”

Barry was back next to Victor before he actually responded, “Are you sure? Like, I could go, um, back there”

“Dude, it’s cool.” Barry settled a little. He felt on edge now. Before he hadn’t thought about. Maybe Arthur was right. Maybe Barry should be over there. Then he heard the opening bars of something folksy with hint of country. “Country Roads”? Yep, that’s what was playing. Looked like Victor had a penchant for folk and country. Barry didn’t mind those. He was a rampant consumer of all the music. Hadn’t found a genre yet where he couldn’t work with something. 

“Victor.” Arthur growled. He was also glaring. Apparently, Arthur was not a folk or country fan. 

“Your fault. Be happy there aren’t dead dogs or a broken truck.” Barry looked at the glowering Arthur and then glanced over at Bruce who was smiling. A smiling Batman. Now that was creepy. 

Victor nudged him and asked, “Are those brownies?” Barry was reminded of the paper bag he’d been carrying around before Arthur made him feel like a freak who was less than 2 inches tall.

“Uh. Yeah. Alfred sent them. Do you want one?”

“Sure”

“Does anyone else want a brownie?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Barry is a music buff. He listens to all the music.
> 
> Various 'song' references:  
> "All the Hospitals"- People Eating People  
> "Just Keep Swimming"- Dory in Pixar's Finding Nemo.
> 
> Cyrillic Reference:  
> До встре́чи translates roughly to 'until next time' or so the internet tells me. It's also the closest sort of appropriate phrase that sounds like what Ezra said. Not sure why they didn't go with До свидания. 
> 
> If he'd yelled fire: огонь
> 
> 11/25/17 note edit:   
> Thank you Psyduckling for helping me figure the word he said! For those curious about what the actual line in the movie is, Barry really does say Dostoyevsky. Like the writer of Crime and Punishment, The Idiot, and The Brothers Karamazov. I think Psyduckling is correct that they were trying to pun off of До свидания (Dasvidaniya) which actually means goodbye. I'm going to leave the Cyrillic as is, but wanted to share the information.


	8. Why don't you stay for the night? Or maybe a bite?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Vic. No one could defend this.” Barry waved his hands pointing to substances that weren’t even pancake ingredients that had ended up in areas they had no business being. What did catsup have to do with pancakes?
> 
> [The one where Barry dances in his underwear and Victor murders the muffin man].

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My scaffolding is gone! Eeek. I'm writing without a safety net. Hopefully, the characters continue to ring true and all y'all enjoy the Barry/Victor interactions. 
> 
> Heads up, it'll probably be a week before the next chapter. 
> 
> Thank you for reading, supporting and sharing! <3

The transport doors opened and Barry was out. Alfred hadn’t stood a chance. One moment he was standing there, the next Barry had his arms wrapped around the older man while he began his verbal assault. “Brownies. You sent brownies. Thank you. Thank you. You packed snacks. The rations tasted horrible. Dead rat, spoiled milk bad. But high calorie. So thanks. Next time maybe they come in s’mores flavor. No? Maybe there’s a better flavor. Oh, don’t be glass half empty. There can’t be worse flavors. And, what, that face looks like there are worse flavors. What could possibly be worse than dead rat? Oh, HEEEEEEYYYYYY, the team won. Huzzah! World saved!” 

Barry finally paused to breathe and backed away from Alfred. “Yes, huzzah, Mr. Allen. The world spins madly on. You’re welcome for all the snacks, even the dead rat which, I assure you was actually chocolate. Mayhap the team would like to take advantage of the many guest rooms? Superheroes you may be, but sleep is still a general requirement for life.”

Victor replied first, “I don’t actually sleep anymore. But, sure, it’d be nice to relax for awhile.”

That peaked Barry’s curiosity. “You don’t sleep at all? How does that work? I mean, I don’t sleep a lot. Like 2 hours at a time. But nothing?” The only other creature Barry could think of that didn’t sleep was a dolphin. Except that wasn’t exactly what happened. Half a dolphin’s brain slept. Super efficient and not the dead to the world image most people imagined. But still, the dolphins slept.

“Nope. Closest I get now is this meditative type state. Like if you watched the news on mute and just watched the words.” Hmm. Barry really wanted to hook him up to a bunch of machines and figure out what was happening. Barry was hypothesizing dolphin. The mother box portion might not shut off, but the human side? It needed that shut down. Even if only briefly like Barry.

“Fascinating as this is, I will take you up on that Alfred. Will I be staying in the room I started in?” asked Diana. Barry remembered that she’d been here before he’d arrived. It made sense she had like, a room. Barry bet it wasn’t so much a guest room but Diana’s room. Would they all get rooms? That made sense. Bruce was the only one with a Batcave. And Barry’s pad wasn’t strictly kosher. Squatting and all. Nor did it have extra rooms.

Bruce cut in before Alfred could answer, “Wait. We need to talk as a team before people start taking off. We can do it now or in 8 hours. Preferences?”

Arthur answered for all of them, “8. Alright Alfred, where is this room? I assume there is a shower and I can find drink around here somewhere?”

“If you’d all kindly follow me. Bruce, I presume you are capable of finding your own quarters?” Barry looked at Bruce and saw an exhausted man. It looked like the suit was all that was holding him up. Barry did not share Alfred’s confidence that Bruce would make it to his quarters. But Alfred and Bruce had been doing this for years, so Alfred was probably right? Or Alfred liked to let Bruce fall asleep in strange places with his spine contorted to see if Bruce might learn his limits. Bruce may be smart but that kind of connection would be like asking a cat to complete calculus. 

Alfred was leading them through the manor and Barry was trying to form a mental map. It looked like a spirograph picture in Barry’s head. That can’t be right. Architects like lines and grids. It made structural supports easier...“Ms. Prince and Mr. Curry your rooms are on the right along this hallway. Mr. Curry you’ll find the mini-bar is stocked. Sleep well.”

“Mr. Stone and Mr. Allen, follow me along this hallway. Your rooms are across from the lounge area. Feel free to break out any of the game systems, board games, pool table or whatever else has accumulated in there. Good night and good meditating gentleman.”

Barry watched the older man leave. Then he looked down and saw dried green flecks of. Oh. So gross. He was still wearing dead bug. His skin started to crawl and he resisted the urge to start scratching. “So, uh, I’m gonna go shower. Bug guts. Gross. But after, do you want to raid the pantry and check out the lounge? I mean, if I go to sleep now I’m going to have to kill like 6 hours.”

“Sure. I don’t actually have to meditate. Washing off battle grime. Completely different story. Meet up in 15?”

“Works for me.”

Barry ducked into the room, closed the door and looked around the room. Okay, he flashed around the room. He was still riding the victory high. Only a victory high. There was no other reason he was excited and jittery.

In a matter of seconds, he’d found a stereo system with an iPod hooked in and a note. 

 

Keep calm and dance. There’s a little bit of everything. Just press play. ~ Alfred

 

Barry didn’t have to be told twice. He pressed play and the whole room filled with Bob Segar’s “Old Time Rock & Roll”. Barry flashed out of his suit and was soon reenacting Risky Business in socks and his Pokemon Boxer Briefs. A perfect way to bleed off energy. He felt free and relaxed in a way he hadn’t since he found Bruce sitting in his second favorite chair. The world was still spinning, he was going to dance his way into a hot shower, and then he was going to hang out with Victor. That shiver just now. Completely due to the cold. Nothing to do with anticipation. The song ended and “Sweet Transvestite” started blaring.

“Not cool iPod. That shiver. No relation to anticipation whatsoever!”

-

“I think Alfred is a Rocky Horror fan.”

“Uh, why?”

“He left an iPod with a mix of music and ‘Sweet Transvestite’ popped up. If you make a random generic music mix the only Horror Show song I can see possibly making the cut would be ‘Time Warp’.”

“Sweet Transvestite is fairly iconic. Now if the song was Sarandon singing ‘Touch-a, Touch-a, Touch-a, Touch-me’, then, yes, no doubt, a Horror fan.” Well, Victor was definitely a Horror Show fan. You don’t just mention Sarandon if you’ve got no attachment. They had to have a Rocky Horror party for Halloween. Had Clark seen the movie? That could be scandalous. It would be weird to watch it with Diana though. Like, that was not a movie you watched with your mom. 

“I bet he’s a fan. There is totally a picture of him somewhere decked out like Frank N. Furter.”

“Hah. No way man. He’s too straight-laced.”

“Maybe. I think he’s just lulling us all into a false sense of complacency. Hey, how does it feel to claim VICTOR-y over the mother boxes? Yes, that was a pun. I am not sorry.” Barry wasn’t sorry. Puns were beautiful things. Puns had a bum rap.

“Heh, original. Ehh… Unreal? I really wasn’t sure what the fallout was going to be. Now? I’m just hoping that there are no residual effects. I was in contact with those boxes for a lot longer than orchestrating operation FrankenMan.”

“Huh. Oh man. I hadn’t even considered that.” Oh wow. Barry had asked a good question. One that led to sharing. Feelings sharing. Okay. Um. Focus Barry. Be present. The mindful thing. Genuine. “Extremely glad it didn’t vaporize you though. Have you noticed anything? I mean, I know it hasn’t been that long, but is this like an anticipatory worry or an I have seen the signs kind of worry?” 

“Yeah, I like not being a cloud of floating disconnected atoms too. Nothing concrete. Just doing the math. It seems unlikely that NOTHING happened. Technically it could just be benign or helpful stuff like faster processing speeds or pink stripes. Or it could be system overrides like what happened with Clark.”

“Not that this is helpful. But Vic, if you notice something or something happens- I’m here. Just make sure you tell me, or like, ya know, someone, so we can troubleshoot and not let the thing snowball.”

“::cough::, uh, thanks. I’ll keep that in mind. So, um, how many of these players can you play at once? I’m guessing at least 2.” Nailed it. Go Barry. He was not the one to duck out in the emotional game of chicken. He hadn’t gotten distracted by the face he’d be staring at. Intensely staring. And, he hadn’t gotten called out on the nickname usage. Now he had to educate Vic on the gaming god before him. That’s right. Barry was a gaming god.

“2 is easy! I flash back between so many screens and controllers. My place is decked out with screens. It’s an epileptic's nightmare. It’s also sound overload for most people. I can actually play all 4 players at once.”

“But, do you play them well?” Oh, Snap. No, you didn’t Vic. Prepare to eat some humble pie. Or is it crow pie? Humble pie had to taste better. Barry imagined some berry concoction versus, well, a dead crow.

“Oh, it’s on. Let’s play 2 on 2. I’ve seen those magic hands. You can totally interface with 2 controllers at once.”

“Alright. What’re the stakes?”

“Uh, bragging rights, duuuuhhh. Prepare to be schooled, Vic.”

-

“Morning lazy bones.” 

Well nice to see you to Victor. “How am I the lazy one? The rest of the gang crashed earlier AND they’re not here yet. I beat Alfred,” He put his hand on the table and felt grit. Had Alfred gotten behind on dusting? He took a moment to really look at the kitchen. What had happened here? “who by the way is not going to be happy about his kitchen. They’re pancakes, man. How is there batter on the ceiling? The place looks like a local snowstorm hit. Is there any flour left?”

“You bailed. On video games. With me. To sleep. That makes you lazy.” Victor pointed at Barry with the spatula which resulted in projectile batter. Barry dodged. He looked behind him and decided Victor must be recreating a blood spatter crime for the murder of the gingerbread man. Barry’s money was on the muffin man. 

Victor resumed, “Ceiling batter.” He pointed up, “That’s one secret I’ll never tell. There is flour left. Technically.”

“Uh, sure Gossip Girl. Technically. Riiiighhht. I am not protecting you from Alfred.” Barry took a bite of a pancake. They were good. Add some butter and real maple syrup. They’d be perfect.

“So that’s how it’s gonna be? Yeah, I see. You’ll eat the pancakes but you won’t defend the process by which they came to be.”

“Vic. No one could defend this.” Barry waved his hands pointing to substances that weren’t even pancake ingredients that had ended up in areas they had no business being. What did catsup have to do with pancakes?

“I was thinking while you were sleeping. Your anxiety. It’s related to your powers.” 

Hello Victor. Welcome to left field. How are pancakes related to his anxiety? Buy time Barry. Or he could just leave. But fairs fair. Vic did the share thing last night. Eye for an eye right. But first, stall Barry, stall. “Was that a question?”

“Should it be?”

“Ahh, uh. No. I always ran a little high on the anxiety side. But then, after, well the speed force. It’s like my baseline is a 7 now and that’s only 3 points from a perfect 10. I think the way the speed force tweaks with my physiology is kind of like if were knocking back stimulants like tic-tacs.”

“Mmm. That tracks.”

“Good morning boys! Pancakes look delicious. Did the ingredients resist? It looks like there was a struggle.” Thank you, Jesus! The resurrected team member has returned. Sharing time will reconvene at a later date. Did he call them boys? Over 21 is not a boy. They could drink and smoke if they wanted to. Not sure why he’d want to smoke, though. Functioning lungs were super awesome.

Victor answered, “In the end they got SERVE-d.”

“Ha. Should we start a pun war?” asked the boy scout poster boy. 

“Please, no. Let us break our fast in peace.” Good save Diana. Barry loved a good pun, but he had the suspicion that Clark could take puns to a place Barry never wanted to hear. 

“I concur, Ms. Prince. My lord, what have you done to my kitchen? Mr. Stone and Mr. Allen. You will be cleaning every inch.”

Barry’d called it and he was not going down for this, “Heeyyyy. He’s the one who killed the muffin man! This is on him.”

“He may have killed the Muffin Man, but you have eaten half his body to dispose of the evidence. That, Mr. Allen, makes you an accomplice. Pay the piper.”

“Ughhhh. THIS. This is your fault, Vic. I told you he’d be mad.” Barry looked at Vic who did not look sorry. He didn’t even look sympathetic. Was this some evil master plan? Barry was going to get stuck cleaning the kitchen while Vic supervised. No. Barry was on to him. Tom Sawyer style tricks were not going to work on him.

Bruce walked in, “Who trashed the kitchen? Uh. Ahem. Uh. Hello Clark.” Was Bruce okay? Why did he always get less coherent when Clark was around? There had to be something he was missing. Some detail. Like the intensity before the resurrection fiasco. The ‘I don’t not’. Yeah, the whole team had heard that.

“Bruce.”

Alfred filled the awkward silence, “I believe the words both of you are looking for are ‘How are you?’ or ‘Nice to see you’.”

“Uh. Right.” Bruce turned to his left, “Diana, where’s Arthur?”

“Not here.”

“Wrong answer little lady.” Arthur took a swig from the glass bottle he was carrying as he walked into the room from a different door.

“Alright. Now that everyone’s here. Congratulations. We saved the world. There WILL be more threats. I propose maintaining the league. Justice League. We can team up, train, and watch the world for threats.” Bruce seemed to be caught halfway between Bruce and Batman. His sentences were a little bit longer than the Bat. But less fluid than Bruce’s. Barry idly wondered if Bruce even realized the conflict between the two roles. Or, it could just be the man needed more sleep than 8 hours after the go-go-go-pain gauntlet he’d run.

“That seems logical.”

Barry followed the general consensus with a question, “Can we have team parties? I mean, we saved the world. HELLO. That is worthy of a party.”

“A celebration is a wonderful idea,” answered Diana. Two votes for a party.

“Will there be drink?” inquired Arthur.

Barry had not been expecting that question, “You mean like water? I’m pretty sure there will be water.”

Victor interjected, “Barry, he means like 21 and up drink.”

“Oh. Booze. Right. Uh yeah, there can be booze. Unless. Alfred are there rules about firewater?” His face was not turning red. People made mistakes like that. Maybe not surrounded by colleagues, and ya know, um, Victor but… Nope. His face was turning red again. Don’t make eye contact. Shoes are interesting. He should probably tie the laces.

Alfred interrupted Barry’s embarrassment spiral, “Aside from the legal drinking age? No there are no rules against alcohol at a party Mr. Allen.”

“Awesome! The Justice family is having its first party.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The title draws from "Sweet Transvestite" lyrics. 
> 
> Barry yells at the iPod because he knows the verse is coming with the lyrics "Come up to the Lab/And see what's on the slab/I see you shiver with antic...ipation"
> 
> Songs referenced:  
> "Old Time Rock & Roll", Bob Segar  
> "Sweet Transvestite", performed by Tim Curry  
> "Time Warp", performed by Richard O'Brien, Patricia Quinn, Little Nell


	9. Y’all ready for this?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Barry had run around all day. He actually had to put out a fire he set sparking through the manor. He’d also moved some furniture to hide the burn spot. Over his dead body was he getting the nickname Sparky. It had been worth it though. He had a solid party plan. It was set up and everyone was starting to gather.
> 
> [The one where Bruce gets roofied and Arthur is a closet Disney fan]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for sticking with this. I hope all y'all enjoy it. It'll most likely be about a week again between chapters. Sorry if it feels cliffhanger-y!

“I could clean faster, but then I’m afraid you’d try and get me to do the entire kitchen. I am just an accomplice. You are going to do at least as much time as me.” Plus if he cleaned faster then there’d be no reason to hang out in the kitchen and he wouldn’t have the opportunity to hang out with Vic. Taz style cleaning left much wanting for the social aspects of working with someone.

“Not complaining. Although I did see you on that side with a mop, a cloud of sparks, and lo!” Barry ducked as soapy water came at him from Vic’s exuberant hand motion, “That corner was cleaned.”

“I’m not sure what happened over there Vic. But it was. Ew. Gross. Super speed was required. Some tasks you do NOT dwell on.”

“Uh-huh.” 

Barry wasn’t kidding. At this point, he would die a happy man not knowing what had gone on with those pancakes. Ignorance was bliss. And he suspected this was the rare instance where satisfaction would not actually bring him back. “So, are we, like gonna hang out when not saving the world?”

“No.”

Barry’s easy smile dropped like a lead balloon, “Oh. Um. Okay. I, uh, sure.”

“Dude. Kidding. Being a metal man leaves me with limited friend options.”

“So I’m that kid who you keep getting stuck with while the adults are at a party. You either both sit there and be miserable or try and get along. I get that. I’ll take it.” Barry could work with that. He’d been the last kid picked for the team. Well, the team that involved hand-eye coordination. And that chem lab after he’d dropped the experiment and burned Ally. No Alexa? Smith. Total accident. Not his fault. She even let him eat lunch with her later that year after he helped her turn her C to a B. Vic might be stuck with him, but Barry could run with it.

“Earth to Barry. You left your self-esteem with launch control. I was still kidding. I don’t recall harassing Diana or Arthur for bailing on hanging out to sleep. Options may be limited but that doesn’t mean they suck.”

“Uh… I may have taken that too literally.” Social cues. But was that really his fault? Vic was champion at deadpanning. Where did that word come from anyway? The hell does a frying pan have to do with a blank-faced delivery? Could a pan actually die? Well, maybe if you ran over it with a truck. But, really. The 'literally' thing. Not all Barry’s fault. 

“Hey, no worries.”

“Okay, since you just crushed my soul.” Barry might be exaggerating a tad. But notice, his voice was not stuck in monotone and his face? It moved. That indicated a hyperbolic statement. 

“I made a joke. I have no recollection of soul-crushing.” 

Barry stuck to his guns, “Again, since you crushed my soul, you are going to help me. I call it operation Zelda.” 

“Like blonde girl, pointy ears, boy in a green hat Zelda?”

“What other Zelda is there?”

“Uh Huh. Fitzgerald just rolled in her grave.” Barry had honestly forgotten about her. The 20’s were before his time and she wasn’t the one had written The Great Gatsby. Green lights and Daisy. She was a writer? No an artist? Both. She was both. 

“Ignoring that. Here’s the plan. I am going to get Alfred to say ‘Hey! Listen!’ in a high pitch voice. You are going to put that recording and program on all of Bruce’s stuff. I’m talking ringtone, alarm clock, and computer wake up bell. But you can’t like, just reprogram it. It has to be hard to undo. Bruce needs to be stuck with this for at least a week. Or until, ya know, he’s agreed to the Zen Accord.” 

“Zen Accord?”

“It’s a working title. Endgame though, Batman doesn’t crack like Humpty Dumpty.” 

-

Barry had finished cleaning his half of the kitchen. He’d sworn a solemn oath to himself that he was not going to be suckered into cleaning the whole kitchen. He’d already whitewashed all the fences in life he was going to. He’d left Vic grumbling and scrubbing away at the other half of the kitchen after Vic had made an attempt to con Barry into cleaning more. Besides, Barry had important things to take care of otherwise his list was going to become a novel. Here went nothing. “Hey guys.”

“Barry?” inquired both Bruce and Diana.

“Here’s the thing, um, now that the world is not over, I have this list of things.”

“A list? Isn’t that supposed to be my thing, Diana?”

Diana shook her head, “Lists and planning are not exclusively patented by the Wayne corporation.”

“So anyway. I have a list” Barry whipped it out of his pocket and thrust it in Bruce’s face. “See. I have a list.”

“Why is my name in a sentence with spa? Victor?”

Barry decided his best course of action was to plow through. If he just talked fast enough he could move this train past the words. Maybe they’d even forget. “Not important. The notable thing here is I have a list. It’s real. So we need to lay down policy. Like HR stuff.”

“As in?”

“Well, the team might grow. And, uh, who knows who will join. But as the team gets bigger people might want to, uh, I don’t know, engage in interoffice relations? I mean collecting the superhero misfits all in a room… Something is bound to click. Hence, policy. Is there a policy?”

Bruce answered, “No.”

“No what? Like no policy. Or no relationships? Can people be kicked off the team? Is fraternizing a fireable offense?”

“Bruce,” Diana gently grabbed the man’s elbow, “Consider what he’s saying. Having powers is a challenge. I should know. I’ve been around for centuries; the man I loved died saving humanity. It is very probable that others with variations on that story might jump at the opportunity to make a life with someone who understood. Do not let fear dictate your decisions.”

“I was going to say. No, there are no policies. I plan for most things, but honestly, I did not expect to find myself living in a post-Steppenwolf world. Now I have to play catch up.”

“Okay. Sure. Wow, that’s dark man. Wait, were we all dead?” Barry took a moment and started to realize that meant Bruce had willing recruited him knowing, “Nevermind. I don’t want to know. But, the policy thing- any inkling on which way the scales are gonna tip?”

“I am sure he did not believe we were all going to die.”

“I envy your optimism, Diana.” Barry persisted, “So, Batman?”

“You’re not going to stop if I don’t answer. Not a question. Diana and her bleeding heart are correct. It’d be counterproductive to have a ban.”

Barry flashed his 100-megawatt smile. “Cool. Any party requests. Transparency again? I haven’t actually thrown a party.”

“Music and good company are the only requirements, Barry. A party can happen behind enemy lines with just those.” Barry watched Diana as she seemed to fade from the present. She must be remembering something. He wondered if it had anything to do with that old boyfriend. He was about to ask, but Alfred spoke up from the corner of the room.

“Quite right Ms. Prince.”

He’d bother Diana about it later. He had party planning experience to accrue, “Mmm. Sure. Alright. Time to go expand my resume.”

“Now Bruce, why couldn’t you be like Mr. Allen? Where did I go wrong?” Barry stifled a chuckle at Alfred’s friendly harassment. When exactly had Bruce gone dark and stormy type A?

Bruce deadpanned, “I think it started with the Karate.”

-

Barry had run around all day. He actually had to put out a fire he set sparking through the manor. He’d also moved some furniture to hide the burn spot. Over his dead body was he getting the nickname Sparky. It had been worth it though. He had a solid party plan. It was set up and everyone was starting to gather.

“When’s the bouncer going to open the door?” asked Arthur.

“When everyone is here.” Barry refrained from adding duh. 

“Who’s missing? Are we waiting on the Kryptonian? We are. Aren’t we?”

“I thought I was the only Kryptonian on the team.”

“Kind of you to make a showing Mr. Kent.”

“Alright. Alright. ‘Y’all ready for this?’” Barry sang as he opened the doors and flipped the switch. The room filled with light. It was a glorious display of fiberoptics, black lights, strobe lights and. And then the room went dark.

Victor looked at Barry, “Did you just blow a fuse?” 

“Uh. No. Hold on.” Barry started flashing and sparking around the room. Re-plugging things in. Flipping switches. Pushing in fuses. He should know more about circuits. He’d taken a gazillion physics classes. Circuits. Parallel. Series. Capacitors. Ceramic? Ceramics made good capacitors Ohm’s law. Ohhhmmmmm. Well, here was the proof. Book learning does not always translate into practic--

“Nice work Tinkerbell, place is lit up like Disneyland.”

“You. Did. Not. Just call me Tinkerbell.” Barry was incensed. He knew Arthur was stronger, but Barry was faster and Arthur had found the line. Barry had arranged the other man’s hair into pigtails. The guy’s hair was greasy. Almost to the point Barry regretted his decision. He looked again at the jock sporting pigtails and bow. Nope, greasy oily hands were worth it.

“Mr. Allen, I believe he was referring to your bringing the lights back to the ‘castle’ so to speak. Regardless you’ve clearly had your revenge. Shall we commence the festivities?”

Clark chimed in with a reporter’s keen observation skills, “That is a karaoke machine. Who’s brave enough to start?”

“I think Pippy should start.” Said Bruce, “Maybe something by Aqua since he talks to fish or water. I still think he talks to fish.”

“Pippy? What-?” Arthur reached up and touched his hair. Understanding dawning “Barry.”

Always the peacekeeper, Diana cut him off, “We should all sing. The real question is what is a song we all know well enough to sing?”

-  
The party had been raging for a while. As much as 6 people, a plethora of black lights, a karaoke machine, and a truckload of alcohol could rage. Clark seemed to go for country and classic rock. Diana could sing all of it. Girl had pipes that would give Beyonce pause. Alfred wouldn’t solo but he had harmonized for Diana. No one had been willing to try and sing Arthur’s metal with him. Vic had gone folksy and country. Bruce. Well. The man tried. Turns out the growly Batman voice– not far off from his attempts to sing. He did manage to do a passable job at a Leonard Cohen song Barry had badgered him into. Barry, he’d made sure that the karaoke classics not neglected and supported anyone who had asked. 

Barry gave himself a congratulatory pat on the back. He could now claim party planner as a skill set. He watched the nearby fiber optic blacklight display and started to speak, “Hey Bruce. There may be a few charges on the credit card that you don’t recognize. They are yours though.”

“Did you steal my credit card?”

“Borrowed. I borrowed without asking. There was no stealing.”

“What did you think was going to happen Bruce? Unless you had all this stuff lying around… The kid was clearly going to need cash. Didn’t you say he was squatting? If we ignore the light show and the karaoke machine have you seen the ocean Arthur’s drunk?”

“It’s not about the money Clark. It’s the asking. You ask before grabbing a someone’s credit card.” Barry thought about defending himself. Except he knew he had boundary issues. Sometimes he came to solutions and forgot that other people might need to be informed. He wasn’t actually sorry. Maybe if he kept his mouth shut?

“Perhaps you should just open a line for Mr. Allen if you are going to get testy about the party for the team you created.”

“Et tu Alfred? Et tu?”

Alfred held out a tumbler, “Have a drink Master Bruce.”

“Thank you.” Bruce knocked the tumbler back in one gulp. “Alfred. Is there a reason I am feeling dizzy?”

“It might have something to do with the previous drink. I’d suggest you sit down.” 

“Damn it, Alfred.” Bruce staggered backward and collapsed onto the couch next to Clark.

Barry was perplexed, “Exactly what is going on here?”

“He roofied me.” 

“Uh. What now?” Hold up. Hold up. Had Bruce just said roofied? Shouldn’t one not have to worry about drugged drinks at a party with heroes. He-man definitely would say drugging your teammates wasn’t ethically sound. Was there an episode with a ‘don’t drug your friends’ moral recap? There should be.

“Roouuuffffied.” Bruce’s head drooped to the side and his eyelids kept falling. He looked the picture of a 2-year-old trying to stay up past his bedtime.

Clark looked dismayed as Bruce leaned into him, “Alfred. Can you explain why Bruce is now falling asleep on my shoulder?” 

Alfred sighed. “We have a contract. Before anyone says anything. This was Bruce’s idea. During his first year as the Batman, his extreme insomnia and the effects of sleep deprivation became apparent. He decided to enact a contract, when he has gone for prolonged periods without sleep, does not respond to suggestions to sleep, and shows no signs of planning on sleep I am supposed to drug him, put him to bed, and generally take care of him. As he refused to sleep and went about planning last night instead of sleeping, drastic measures were in order.”

Barry processed this. It sounded like a risk-aware something or another type contract after a BDSM scene. Yes. Barry had been to some weird places on the internet. He chalked it up to curiosity. Knowledge is power and all. “So you got aftercare without the fun parts?”

“Yes, Mr. Allen. I suppose one could say I got ‘aftercare without the fun parts’”.

Victor elbowed Barry, “Kinkster much?”

“The fact that you connected that to kink implicates you.” Barry watched Vic’s eyes get wider, “Or, we can all agree that things like the Shades of Grey franchise made it more a part of the zeitgeist.”

“Zeitgeist” decided Victor.

“Now that you gentleman have this sorted, Mr. Kent would you kindly accompany me and carry the man-child that has sprawled across your lap?”

“Ehh.”

“Mr. Kent I will remind you that I am a frail old man whose back may snap when trying to maneuver his deadweight to his room.”

“Uh. Um. Yes. Absolutely.”

Diana had watched all this patiently. Once the two men and the sleeping ‘man-child’ had left the room, she spoke up, “We should continue, who is going to sing next?” 

“I got this,” Arthur said as stood up and swayed. Yes, the Atlantean had imbibed lake Michigan and was now swaying. “You, Tink. Come sing with me.”

“No.”

“Awwwww,” Arthur took another swig from the bottle he was holding. “Let’s sing, Tinkerbell. It’ll be magical.”

Barry was out. He was literally out of the room. He heard the doors to the balcony slam behind him and just stood. Arthur was drunk. But Barry was furious. The nickname was so! Fuck this was not acceptable. Even if he hadn’t said anything. Damn it. His entire body was vibrating with anger he had no idea what to do with. This. The team. It couldn’t be school again. It couldn’t.

Barry’s brooding was interrupted by Victor’s hand on the small of his back and a gentle, “Hey.”

“Hi.” Barry didn’t turn. He stayed facing the view glaring into the distant darkness. He could give Clark’s laser vision some competition if he kept this up. 

“Arthur in there. Not chill.” Victor paused. “Not to negate your feelings but I don’t think Arthur meant to be, well offensive. He appears to be a closet Disney fan. Honestly. He’s in there singing ‘Under the Sea’ with Diana and has 4 more Disney songs in the cue. He’s also very, very drunk.”

Victor moved to lean back against the balcony next to Barry. Barry counted. He counted to 10 five times. Then he spoke, “I get it. But no. I’ll deal with a lot of things. I have limits though. I will NOT tolerate homophobic nicknames. Not again.”

“Mmm.” 

“Just imagine this” Barry made a terse gesture to himself, “awkward, nerdy, gangly Jewish boy in school. Then add that the kid’s dad is in jail for killing the kid’s mother. That there. That is enough to get placed in the out-group. But no, the kid is different. The other kids sense it. Then add the final ingredients, society's pervasive low key homophobia and a kid whose name rhymes. Vic, IT RHYMES with fairy.”

“Ouch.”

“Yes ouch. But that, that is not something I should have to work on. Social skills sure. But not who I am.” Barry deflated a little. He broke his glare at the darkness to look down at his shoes. Victor reached out then and turned him so they were facing each other and Barry looked up.

“There’s nothing wrong with who you are,” Victor leaned in and his lips grazed Barry’s. It was light and sweet. A peck. Barry’s heart stopped. What had just happened?! Barry’s imagination sometimes ran wild and occasionally he confused daydreams with reality. Is that what was happening? Not that he’d been daydreaming while angry but. And then Victor’s voice brought him back to the reality.

“And, for what it’s worth, you’re not the only one on the team.” Not a daydream. Barry felt warmth flood through him. A welcome relief from the coarse tension of his prior fury. Then he noticed, Victor was walking away. Barry had to do something. Anything. He grabbed Vic’s hand as he walked away, sparks glittering between where Barry’s hand had been and now was. “Thanks.”

Victor squeezed his hand, “Anytime.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Song Reference:  
> Title reference and Barry quote from: Get Ready for this- 2 Unlimited (the orchestral version)  
> Under the Sea- composed by Alan Menken with lyrics by Howard Ashman from Disney's The Little Mermaid
> 
> Some of the random references:  
> Taz the Tasmanian devil from Looney Tunes  
> He-Man from Masters of the Universe (if you've never watched the cartoons, they always ended with a life lesson moral)  
> More Zelda references. Specifically Zelda Ocarina of time.  
> Zelda and Scott Fitzgerald... and the Great Gatsby  
> Pippy as in Pippy Longstocking


	10. The Boy who Loves the Sea

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Barry snickered while walking backward, “I just want to be clear here. Even though I’m joking, this is serious. I’m just the guy who makes jokes at funerals because he’s uncomfortable.”
> 
> [The one where Arthur makes bad life choices]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm terrible with tagging and trigger warnings but- tw: alcohol poisoning.
> 
> Thank you for waiting and continuing to read! Even with my typos. Grammarly and spellcheck only do so much and I know it's not enough. Next chapter will most likely be in about a week.

Barry had waited outside before following Victor back inside. Well, waited, paced, semantics right? His emotions had just gone on a startling roller coaster ride and he needed to find his calm center. He was going to be a leaf in the wind. Except didn’t Wash die? Okay. Not a leaf on the wind. But he was going to take a deep breath and not dive back into the rage pond and he wasn’t going to spiral into a ‘what did that just mean’ freakout. Not until after the party was over. Just hit pause Barry. Hit pause.

He took another breath and rejoined the other three partiers left in the room. Arthur had the mic and was trying to sing. Those were sounds but definitely not words. And not the words to Moana’s epic “I am Moana”. Yep. Arthur had completely missed the final belt. Barry glanced at Diana who looked concerned and then at Victor who was struggling not laugh.

Diana stood up and reached a hand out for the mic. “Arthur why don’t you take a break, let someone else sing a song”.

“N...no. No...you….c….n...h….lp..ga…..” Barry watched Arthur start to– to fall? Or make a really terrible attempt at groping Diana. He was going to call it fall. Grope sounded awful. 

Barry might not like the guy, but Arthur probably needed the brain cells that survived the waterboarding by alcohol. He flashed over, caught the guy, and helped Arthur lower to his knees. More or less. The guy defied physics. How had Vic not fallen out of the sky when he’d caught this black hole masquerading as a man?!

Barry watched the man start to pass out and, well call Barry petty, but he was not going to let the man pass out before he’d help walk his drunk self back to his room. Or maybe Barry was just getting some revenge. Did it matter? End result: Arthur was covered in dripping ice-water that Barry had thrown at him.

Insta-regret. Just add ice. Arthur made a face. The face of someone about to projectile vomit. Barry broke his speed record while grabbing a trash can and shoving under Arthur’s face. Barry snagged Arthur’s hair and joked, “Hold a sorority girls hair while she pukes her guts out? I’m gonna sub this in and call that life experience satisfied.” 

Luckily Diana was on Arthur’s other side because 2 heaves in and Barry was gagging. He tried to stay. But the smell. Gagging, cat retching sounds. Nope. Barry couldn’t stay. He sparked across the room to another trash can where he promptly lost his dinner and hoped that Diana had caught Arthur.

Barry finished and went back to the gang. Diana was supporting Arthur and spoke up,“It looks like he is done. I am going to take him back to his room to sleep it off.”

Barry thought about what would happen in the halls if Arthur puked again, “I’ll help. I can fetch a bucket faster than you can.”

“I’ll clean up. Barry, no offense, but I think you’d make it worse,” Victor was pointing to the trash can Barry had found, “And Diana– you have already suffered through multiple rounds of drunken yodeling sold as Disney classics.”

“On 3. 1. 2. 3.” Barry heaved and the black hole became more maneuverable with Diana helping. “How much more did he have to drink?”

“I am not quite sure.” Diana thought, then spoke, “I think he drank two more bottles. He was. He was quite insistent on singing and drinking.” Barry took that in and tried to turn at the upcoming fork. “Left.” 

Wasn’t he already going left? He pulled a hand in front of him and looked at it. That was an L. “Other left Barry.” Okay, it wasn’t an L. L with the palm facing down then. Maybe he should get a tattoo. One on the right said right and one on the left that said left. What would happen if he told the tattoo artist the wrong hands? Would they correct him? Or would they take secret pleasure in confusing him for life?

“Barry, we’re here.”

“Uh. Right. Let’s get him on the bed.” They’d meant to gently lift him onto the bed, but Barry had forgotten that Diana was incredibly strong. So his full-on heave-ho paired with her anticipation of Barry token helping… Arthur hit the bed and rolled. Barry cringed at the thump. 

“I’ll lift him onto the bed. Barry, guard the other side to make sure he does not fall again.” 

Arthur was sprawled like a drunken unconscious starfish. A thought occurred to Barry, weren’t you supposed to turn inebriated people on their sides. Yeah, that’s what happened in those D.A.R.E. videos and he vaguely remembered it from a CPR class, “On his side.”

“His side, what?”

“He needs to be lying on his side. First aid, CPR. To make sure he doesn’t drown himself in vomit.”

“Side it is.” Diana finished positioning Arthur and then stood with her arms folded. “Now, would you like to share what happened earlier?”

Was she actually asking about the sympathetic vomiting? That was a thing. A LOT of people puked when other people threw up, “Uh. Vomit grosses me out?”

“Earlier Barry. When you abandoned your party.” 

Oh shit. Of course, that was what she was asking about. Where did he start? What was he going to say? Why was she asking him to un-press the pause button?! “Okay. Okay. Um. Well. Uh. Okay. So. Well, the thing is that, um”

“Sentences Barry. Full sentences please”

“I….I” Barry took a breath and let the floodgates open “The thing is that. Well. Okay, not full sentences. They’re coming. Cross my heart. Victor. He. So Victor kissed me and I probably shouldn’t say anything. Nope shouldn’t have said anything. This here” Barry waved his hands, “Cone of silence. Not worried about Mr. Blackout. Well, was it like a ‘Hey, I sorta like, LIKE you’ kiss? Or was it a Michael and Brian we’re besties with boundary issues and it’s never going to happen? I do not want to end up in that kind of a dysfunctional friendship.” 

“Let me see if I understand. Something happened, which you still have not explained, that caused you to huff out of the party. When Victor followed you out, he kissed you? Which, I am presuming is not terrible as I did not hear an ‘Ew’ or ‘how dare he?!’ Instead you asked if he had a crush on you or what I’m taking was a strange friendship dynamic on television?”

“Yeah. He did.” Barry nodded his head and then enthusiastically shook it, “No not terrible. How did you miss Queer as Folk? Wait. Do you watch television? Why are you shaking your head? Really? None?”

“No, Barry television is not a top ranking pastime for me. But back to the important issue, I know patience is a struggle for you Barry, but perhaps the best way to find out is to wait and see. I suppose you could also ask him, but given your challenge using words with me I doubt he’d parse what you were asking.”

“Patience? Ughh.” Barry threw his head into his hands, “I don’t suppose you have some Amazonian magic eight ball? Nope? Alright. Had to ask.”

The door opened and Barry looked up to see Vic. Thanks be to whatever cosmic forces did or did not exist that he had not shown up a few seconds earlier! “Hi. The party that no one is at– is now vomit free.”

“Oh my god. Thank you! I gag just thinking about cleaning…” Barry took some steadying deep breaths. He wasn’t lying about the gagging. “Diana you can go crash if you’d like. I can keep watch over the shikker here.”

Diana made a face that said she didn’t believe Barry. Victor must have also seen it, “I’ll stay too and make sure Barry doesn’t shave the guy’s head.”

Diana gave the two a knowing look, “Goodnight boys. I expect all three of you to still be breathing come breakfast time with all the hair you started with.” She stared at them for a minute, likely trying to determine whether she trusted them. Barry tried to make the most competent and reassuring face he could muster. It worked or she decided to take a leap of faith because she left.

“So….” Diana had been right about patience. Barry had none. Time for the band-aid approach. Just rip it off Barry.

“Are we going to talk about earlier?” Barry waited. He had a flashback to the non-fistbump in the graveyard. He was going to be left, hand figuratively floating in the air. Yup. That’s what was going to happen. “No? Um, that’s cool. We don’t have to talk. Anyway, uh, you don’t have to stay if you’d rather do something else. Scout's honor, I will not shave Arthur’s head tonight.”

“Don’t take this the wrong way, but I don’t quite trust that promise. Even with the scout salute. Plus, he’s not looking great.”

Barry rolled his eyes and then studied Arthur for a moment, “Is it just me or does he look like he may be distantly related to a Smurf?”

“Definitely blue-tinged. His breathing is erratic too.”

“Do Atlanteans get alcohol poisoning?” Because alcohol poisoning is what a truckload of alcohol, uneven breathing, and blue skin equaled to Barry. Maybe he was wrong? Alcohol poisoning was serious. Team bonding was not supposed to end in people potentially dying. 

“It looks like this one does.” 

Of course, Vic had come to the same conclusion. Don’t panic Barry. “Okay. But if he were a human we’d take him to the ER. But his physiology IS different.” How would he even explain that to the ER doctor? Hey, this guy here, the one who drank more alcohol than you thought possible, he lives under water. Which means everything underneath this here skin wrapper? Probably different than your used to. But fix him anyway? Please and thanks. Barry’s heart rate tripled at the thought.

“This may be nothing. His vitals got a little better for a couple minutes after you chucked ice water at him.”

“He does have this weird thing with water. Could he be like a fish? Out of water too long and it’s lights out? Or is it like accelerated dehydration from the alcohol?” Could it be that simple? Barry really didn’t want to have to go to the ER. How was Victor so calm right now? 

“He did ask Alfred about the shower before the alcohol the other night.”

“My vote. We dunk him in the tub. If he doesn’t start improving right away we take a late night visit to the ER.”

“Sure.” Barry sparked off to get the plan rolling and Victor raised his voice so Barry could hear him, “You realize 29% of your party left drugged and unconscious.”

Barry started filling the tub of the tub shower combo and shouted, “Only one of them was drugged by another attendee!”

“Really? Cause that makes it better.”

Barry was about to defend his first attempt at party planning when he emerged from the bathroom to Vic, who was mocking him. Tongue out and everything. Barry huffed, “Help me find out if he’s a witch.” Barry took Arthur’s legs, “Is it if he floats he’s a witch or if he drowns?”

Vic grabbed Arthur under the shoulders, “I believe you also need a duck and a scale if you want to determine if he’s a witch.”

Barry snickered while walking backward, “I just want to be clear here. Even though I’m joking, this is serious. I’m just the guy who makes jokes at funerals because he’s uncomfortable.”

“Yeah. I got that, ready? Let’s drop him in.”

The water splashed and some sloshed onto the tile. Barry stared intently at Arthur, “We killed him.” They had. They had killed him, “Vey is mir! How are we going to tell Diana?!” Maybe they could hide the body. Diana would never have to know, “I should. Should I go steal a rug?”

Victor placed a hand on Barry’s shoulder, “Chill. Give it a minute.”

They waited. Barry tried not to hyperventilate and focused on the weight of Vic’s hand on his shoulder and the steadiness of his voice, “Don’t panic, but we might have killed him.”

“What?! Oh my god. We’re murderers!”

Barry heard the thud before he registered the pain, “OWWWWW.” 

The dead man had suddenly reanimated and crashed Victor and Barry’s heads together. Which was followed by yelling, “Why am I in ice water?”

“To keep you from dying,” retorted Victor.

Barry saw Arthur try and speak followed by a mouth that was gaping like a frog. Barry backed up, “He’s going to puke again.”

\--

“Barry, wake up.”

Barry felt the gentle nudge on his shoulder, but Barry was sleeping. He turned his head and made an uncoordinated gesture with his hand, “Ngghhh.”

“Barry.” The nudge became a poke. Ugh. Someone really wanted him awake.

“Fine. Wait? Where am I?” Barry’s eyes frantically scanned the room. He realized he was looking at the ceiling of, of Arthur’s room. His head was on. It was on Vic’s lap. Time to flash to an upright and seated position. That wasn’t awkward. Maybe the dim lighting would hide his blush? “Oh yeah. Arthur’s not dead, right?”

Victor laughed, “Arthur is breathing. The water and puking seem to have done the trick”

“Sorry for falling asleep on you. Watching Arthur breathe is not super exciting.” Barry blamed his fatigue on his overenthusiastic party planning and throwing up multiple times in response to Arthur’s vomiting. Dim lighting didn’t help either.

“No worries. You were only asleep for the last 30 minutes. Want to get breakfast? I’m pretty sure Alfred is up and cooking and you need to replenish the calories you lost.”

“Food. YES! YES! Wait, he’s not going to stop breathing if we leave though, yeah?” Barry would do a lot of things for food right now, but he couldn’t let a team member die so he could grab a snack. Even if that team member was Arthur.

“He’s been stable for the last 2 hours.”

Good enough for Barry. Crisis time was over, “Food. Let us find all the food. Do you think Alfred made waffles? Or bagels. I’d kill for a dozen bagels.”

“Let’s go find out.” Barry grabbed Victor and flashed them through the manner and into the kitchen.

“I could have walked."

“Sure, but then I’d have had to walk and the food might have gotten cold.” Barry walked over to where Alfred was sliding eggs out of a skillet onto a platter and grabbed a piece of sausage from a pan on the stove, “Good morning Alfred. Before I eat this, is it turkey sausage?”

“If it is pork, what do you plan to do with that piece of sausage?”

“Um, put it back?”

“Then it’s turkey.” Barry took a bite and swallowed before realizing that Alfred may be lying to him. 

Barry looked at the older man skeptically, “Are you just saying that?”

Alfred winked, “I would never do such a thing.” 

“That wink does not instill confidence!” Barry was met with Alfred’s laughter. Barry started sparking around the kitchen opening the refrigerator, reading labels, and checking the trash. The sausage was good but Barry couldn’t keep eating it if it was pork.

“Of course it was turkey, Mr. Allen. I know you try to follow the more common kosher standards.”

Barry grabbed another piece and glomped onto Alfred. “You’re the best!”

“Good morning.” Diana said as she walked into the room, “Barry you should let go of Alfred before he gets burned.”

“Oh. Yeah. Good idea.” Barry backed off and grabbed the most recent plate of eggs, well the serving platter, Alfred had prepared. He ignored the chastising look Alfred gave him. Barry was hungry and Alfred knew how much food he needed. 

“How is Arthur?” inquired Diana.

Barry was going to answer through his mouthful of eggs, but Victor spared everyone,“He is breathing and sleeping off the remainder of the alcohol.”

“I hope he wasn’t too much trouble for the two of you.”

Barry paused eating long enough to talk, “It was manageable. Where’s Clark and Bruce?” Really, what had happened with the drug victim and his entourage?

“Mr. Kent flitted off to go find Ms. Lane. Bruce, on the other hand, is still comatose.”

Arthur stomped in “You two!” He brandished his finger at Barry and Victor, “You two! Diana, they tried to drown me in the tub!” Barry almost did a spit take with eggs. How ungrateful! Barry and Victor had been puked on and physically abused keeping that man alive and now he was going to lie to the team’s mom? Uncool.

“Mr. Curry, given that you speak to water and live in Atlantis, which is submerged in water, do you think those two so unintelligent as to believe they could drown you?” Way to call him out Alfred. Barry gave the man props and tried not choke while laughing.

“I thought you said manageable Barry.” 

So Diana thought they were stupid enough to try and drown Arthur? Low blow, “It was! We managed it. He’s standing here yelling at us. So we managed.”

Diana held up a hand to silence Arthur who was gearing up to yell “Victor. Barry. What actually happened after I left?”

Barry looked at Victor and nodded. If Barry told this tale, details would get jumbled and he might get a tad defensive, “Arthur showed signs of alcohol poisoning. Blue lips. Irregular breathing pattern. Given that I had registered an improvement in Arthur’s vitals when Barry doused him in ice water earlier that night. We decided to dunk him in the tub to see if that helped. It seemed worth a try given he’s an Atlantean and we weren’t sure an ER could help. It worked.”

“They drowned me!”

“Mmm, that must be a new-fangled way of saying thank you, Mr. Curry.”

“I concur with Alfred. Arthur, you owe both of them a thank you and an apology. Victor, Barry, thank you for looking after him.”

“You’re welcome.” chimed Victor and Barry. Then the group waited for Arthur to express his gratitude or apologize. Barry munched his breakfast. Alfred cracked more eggs. How many eggs had Alfred bought? Barry was fairly certain he’d seen 4 dozen eggs worth of cartons in the trash can. Did Alfred have a magic fridge that replenished eggs? Barry wanted one. 

After the waiting became awkward, Alfred redirected the conversation, “As Mr. Curry is above thanking people, where is everyone off to?”

Victor spoke first, “I should check in with my dad. Maybe let him run some of the lab tests he’s been itching to complete. Generally, make sure I’m not going to become the next Steppenwolf.”

“I have to wait a day before I can see my dad…” Barry hated the prison’s schedule. It made maintaining his relationship with his dad challenging without his dad’s arduous conversations about Barry moving on and getting a real job. Which reminded him, “but I should probably see if I’m still employed by any of my part-time jobs after running off, without notice, for multiple days. That’s not going to lead to great references.”

“There is a beautiful sculpture awaiting restoration.” Diana looked eager to spend time with that sculpture. She must love her job. Someday maybe he’d get a job he loved like that, “Alfred, you’ll let Bruce know I’ve returned home won’t you?”

“Consider it done. Arthur?”

“Atlantis. I should probably go back.” Arthur made a face like he had just eaten a warhead “Ughh. I’ll have to talk to Mera.” Now that piqued Barry’s curiosity. Who was this Mera? She must be fantastic if she could make Arthur’s face do that at the thought of speaking with her. 

Alfred began washing the dishes, “Well, it sounds as if everyone has something they should be doing. I suggest you finish breakfast and hop to.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> References:  
> "I am Moana" (Song of the Ancestors) performed by Rachel House & Auli'i Cravalho (This is where the title comes from with a pronoun switch)
> 
> Serenity- Wash is the pilot. His mantra during an intense piloting situation is I am a leaf on the wind. Watch how I sore.
> 
> D.A.R.E. (Drug Abuse Resistance Education)- In a nutshell, it's a US education program launched in the 80's that teaches kids from kindergarten through high school not to do drugs, bully, or give out their home address to strangers on the internet. 
> 
> Queer as Folk- I'm referring to the US version. Michael and Brian are best friends who kiss a lot but aren't ever romantically involved. Their relationship causes problems for Michael's relationships with his actual boyfriends.
> 
> Monty Python and the Holy Grail reference. Google the witch scene. You'll get it.


	11. 'Cause You're Hot then You're Cold

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I have no idea what you’re hinting at and I can’t do anything about it if I don’t have a clue. Work with me here.” Barry wanted to smack him. Conversations required actual information to be shared. Unless you were a telepath. Was Arthur a telepath? He hoped not, that’d be more invasive than Clark’s X-ray vision. 
> 
> [The one were Bruce is big brother and Arthur stops yelling]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy holidays! Sorry this took so long- I hit some serious writer's block. Thank you for waiting on this chapter.
> 
> I'm not sure when the next chapter will come; hopefully, in a week or so.

Barry looked up from his eggs and saw Bruce. Wasn’t Bruce supposed to be sleeping? Looks like no one told him that. Bruce also might not be all the way awake given the ridiculous bedhead he was sporting. 

Bedhead didn’t stop him from giving orders though, “No one is hopping to.”

Alfred sighed, “I knew I should have used a higher dose.”

“Twenty-twenty,” smirked the cockatoo? No. Bruce didn’t so much resemble a cockatoo as he did one of those creepy moving trees you see when someone is freaking out walking home through a dark unlit park alone. Nothing good happens in an unlit park after midnight. Call an Uber.

Diana jumped in, “Bruce, I really do need to get back to my job. Antiquities do not restore or deal themselves.” Barry looked at her and wondered if the team was almost too much too soon. From what he’d gathered her last world-saving adventure had left her a lot of emotional wounds. Add to that the fact that she lives longer than most and she seems to have adopted a very introverted lifestyle in response to that long life. All this go, go, people everywhere appeared to have exceeded her people quota.

“Lucky for you I have rooms filled with antiquities Alfred has been pestering me to do something with.”

“Yes, Ms. Prince. You must rescue them from their prison of dust, sheets, and dust; if only to spare me the toil of eventually having to clean them.”

“For you, Alfred, I suppose I could look them over.” Barry was fairly confident she was pretending to be annoyed at this point. That sparkle in her eyes was either sheer rage at being kept here or barely tamped down excitement at hours alone with Bruce’s old stuff. Note to self, thought Barry, do not go antiquing with Diana. 

“And you,” Bruce pointed at Arthur, “You are not going anywhere until we devise a com device that works 20,000 leagues under the sea. Same goes for the nomad and the hacker. We cannot afford another cataclysmic event where I have to waste time finding you.”

Barry tried not to laugh. There was something immensely entertaining about watching the bleary-eyed Ent boss everyone around. If he wasn’t going to laugh, he was going to call Bruce out, “So how come Clark got to leave?”

“Clark answers a phone.”

“Uh-huh,” said Victor, “But so does Diana.”

“Then he’d have to call a girl,” retorted Alfred who wisely ducked to avoid a kitchen towel that whizzed through the air where he’d been standing. Apparently, the towel was Bruce’s only reply because he kept on rolling.

“We need a plan, a system in place. There will be more Steppenwolfs. We need to be prepared. So no one leaves until we have a tentative plan in place and coms that work in flyover country to the bottom of the deep blue sea.”

Barry couldn’t let that stand. Missouri might not be coastal but it had St. Louis and Central City. “Missouri is not flyover country! Kansas might be… but no. We have cell phone towers. Electricity. Running water. Kick ass barbeque. The general components of civilized society.”

“Since when is barbeque a general component of civilized society?”

Barry shot Victor an incredulous look, “Always Vic. Since ALWAYS.” 

“Ahem,” interrupted Bruce, “Here is the plan. Diana will go with Alfred and help me rehome some ceramics. Victor, I need you to work on the coms I have to tweak them in a way that I can reach Arthur without a pony and fear of frostbite. Arthur, you might want to...nap? Or something, because you look terrible. Barry… take care of something on your list before it becomes a novel. All goes smoothly everybody can go off to their plans tomorrow.”

-

Barry stayed in the kitchen to polish off the food Alfred had prepared while everyone went on with their assignments. Why hadn’t Bruce asked him to help with coms. He was capable of handling electronics. Last night proved that. Okay, maybe it didn’t. He had blown a fuse. So not being assigned to the electronics detail might be fair. What on his list should he do then? Talk to Victor was up there, but he’d walked off with Bruce. Was that a conversation he wanted to have in front of Batman? Probably not. He could go play with all the stuff he hadn’t got to touch yet in the Batcave. Wait why is that not on the list? It’s on the list now, but he should probably start closer to the top. Navi. Yes. Alfred should be done escorting Diana by now. Time to go track him down.

Barry started running around the mansion. He’d found a home theater. Not like a home theater system, but an actual theater. Then there was the bowling alley. Why did anyone need a theater or a bowling alley in their house? More importantly why was there now an East Coast Hearst’s Castle? Bruce also had a gigantic walk-in closet with a highly questionable amount of fancy shoes. Barry got turned around and ended up back in the kitchen. Which, is, of course, where Alfred had been hiding or more accurately cleaning. 

“Can I help?” asked Barry.

“Here, you can wash the dishes.” Alfred handed sponge over and sat down at the table.

“I said ‘help’, not ‘let me do it’,” Barry groused.

“Yes. Consider it a thank you gift for cooking your breakfast.”

“Alright. That’s fair-ish.” Barry was trying to puzzle out the morning. More specifically angry Arthur while he washed and Alfred sipped a cup of tea. As Bruce had remarked the man had looked like something the cat had dragged in. Did that make Barry the cat? Or maybe that made his spirit animal a cat. No that’s not how spirit animals worked. Maybe Alfred knew something, “So… How do I phrase this? What the HELL is wrong with Arthur?”

“What makes you think something is wrong?”

“That’s dry British humor, right? People don’t drink that much and then get that angry about not overdosing if everything is peachy keen.” Barry moved to the next dish. How many dishes did they go through? He felt like Snow White without her animal pals to assist.

“No, I suppose they don’t.”

Barry turned the water off and pivoted to face Alfred. “That’s it? No guesses?”

“I find it is best to know someone better before labeling behavior that could be a one-off or part of a pattern,” Alfred paused and then lightly suggested, “If you really want to know you could always talk with Mr. Curry.”

Barry shuddered at the idea, “I get the feeling he’ll snap me like a twig if I talk to him alone.” Barry really did not want to find out if his spine had 9 lives. And, why was his brain stuck on the cat thing? Maybe that was how spirit animals worked. He had to look that up later.

“Only if he can catch you,” teased Alfred, and then as an afterthought, “I suggest avoiding large bodies of water.” 

Barry shook his head and resumed cleaning. Why was it he had searched for Alfred only to end up cleaning? Oh yeah. Operation Navi. “Hey, would you do something for me?”

“No.”

“You haven’t heard what it is yet!” Why does everyone always say no? Is it something about how he asked? 

“No on principal. I do not commit to unspecified favors; they have a tendency to be unsavory.”

“It’s not bad at all. I promise! I just need you to say 2 words while I record it.”

“Which two words?” 

Yeah, that was actually a good question to ask prior to committing. There are a lot of 2-word phrases that you didn’t want to be recorded in your voice. Barry could think of a few… but he should probably tell Alfred what actually needed to be said. “Hey! Listen!”

“For what possible purpose would you need a recording of me saying ‘Hey! Listen’?”

“No, higher pitched. Think Falsetto. ‘Hey! Listen!’ See, super easy. Nothing unsavory about it.” Barry dried his hands and gave himself a mental fist bump. He’d finished the mountain of dishes and he was going to convince Alfred to play along.

“I repeat, to what end?”

“It’s part of master plan to introduce self-care Bruce.” 

Alfred studied him. “Exactly how does this plan work?”

“The less you know the better. That way you can honestly tell him you had no idea what I was up to. He will get mad at some point during the plan. Plus, no offense Alfred, I don’t trust you keeping a secret from him.” Yup, Barry had him. A blind man could see that Alfred desperately wanted Bruce to take care of himself. All Barry had to do was reel him in.

Alfred sighed, “I suppose if I say no you’ll go about this regardless of my answer.”

“Duhhhh. It’ll be easier if you help though.”

“Fine. Are you ready?” Barry sparked in and out of the room and then brandished his cell phone, “Good.” Alfred held up his fingers counting down to three and then spoke, “Hey! Listen!”

“Props man! That is a kick-ass falsetto.” Barry held up his hand for a high five. Alfred returned it, but it took an awkwardly long time. What was it about this team and fist bumps and high fives? Those were common forms of congratulations and camaraderie; it shouldn’t be this hard to engage the team in them!

Next step of Operation Navi- find Vic. “I gotta go--” He sparked out of the room and finished the sentence “--find Victor.”

“Why are you finding me?” 

Damn it. He’d done it again. He’d left the room before finishing his sentence. That item was going to be on his list eternally. He should get stationary with that item permanently embossed on the top, “Okay so I meant to finish that sentence while Alfred was still in the room.”

“Clearly. Again, why are you finding me?” 

“I got it!” He waved his phone perilously close to Victor’s face. “Operation Zelda is greenlit. I have the recording. Listen,” Barry pressed play and Alfred’s dead ringer for Navi played. “Oh my god. It’s perfect. Right? Alfred could be Navi’s British twin.”

“Heh. He did nail it. What is it you wanted me to do?” Victor started to rearrange the objects on the desk that Barry had moved in order to make space to sit. Then Vic held out his hand. Barry handed him the cellphone without a second thought.

“All the things Vic. His alarm clock. His ringtone. His thermostat. Anything that makes an alert beep or can talk to him. That includes his fancy freezer. But you can’t just change them- they need to be crazy hard to undo. By which I mean you need to be the only person who can shut it down.”

Victor leaned back in the chair and waited to be sure Barry was done, “You realize you are asking me to piss off Batman? Man who throws sharp objects and has way too much money?” 

Barry nodded, “Yeah. You’ve got a built-in security system. It’ll be fine.”

“Uh-huh.” Victor went back to working on the computer behind what Barry assumed were pieces of the com units. 

Barry stared at Vic. Barry kicked his legs back and forth waiting for more, but Vic just kept clicking away at the computer screen. Barry tapped Vic with his foot, “So you’ll do it right?”

“I already did most of it. Bruce has got this place seriously wired.”

“Awesome!” Barry jumped up and fist pumped the air. Then he came up behind Vic, placed his hands on Vic’s shoulders and leaned over to look at what Vic was working on, “How go the coms? Can I help?”

“Yeah you can help– but you’re not going to like it.”

Uh-oh. It couldn’t be brunch, everyone had already eaten. But whatever it was, Barry was going to have to back up out of Vic’s personal space, which he wasn’t inclined to do, “I don’t have to wait in line at the DMV with it do I?”

“No. I need you to go test these two with Arthur.”

“Are you sure I couldn’t go stand in line at the DMV?” Vic patted one of Barry’s hands and shook his head, “Geesh, alright. I’ll go. If I get shoved in a locker or drowned I am holding you responsible.” 

-

Barry had the coms and was standing outside Arthur’s room. Time to be brave and walk into the lion’s den? That doesn’t make sense. Sharks and whales don’t have dens though. Time to go swimming with sharks? Yeah, that sounded better. He opened the door and walked in, “Heeeeeeyyyyyy.”

“Get out.” At least Arthur hadn’t yelled. It was more of a command. Plus Arthur hadn’t gotten up from where he was sitting on the edge of the bed. Push comes to shove that meant Barry could outrun him.

“Ummm. I would... but we have to test these,” Barry held the coms up for Arthur to see. The man scowled for a good two minutes. It really was two minutes. Barry had watched the digital numbers on the bedside clock tick by. He wasn’t sure if he should clarify the task or grab Arthur by the arm and flash him to the lake.

Luckily, Arthur spoke up, “Fine. What do we need to do?”

“You need to take one swimming and then we play a game of telephone.” Barry blocked the door as Arthur tried to push past him. Arthur didn’t clock him or say anything so this was as good a time as any to have a heart to heart. Okay, maybe it would have been better when he wasn’t trapped between a door and a muscle man. He’d already stopped Arthur, might as well go for it, “But first, did I do something? I mean aside from not letting you die.”

Arthur crossed his arms, “Can’t we just test the coms.”

Think tall, confident, thou shall not pass thoughts Barry. This was his bridge, well door, and he was going to have his conversation. “No. I think we have to talk. Obviously, something about me grates on your nerves and we need to figure out a way to play nice.”

“I don’t do touchy-feely talks.”

“Obviously. It would completely clash with the angsty ‘I am an island’ strongman persona you’re wearing. Oh, wait! I think you trashed that outfit when you puked your guts out singing Disney.”

“If you’re gonna say shit like that you need to at least look me in the eyes.”

Yes, his eyes may be looking anywhere but at Arthur and yes that may have been a smidge snarkier than was warranted. Wait was this really just because Barry was out of sync? It couldn’t be that simple or, well dumb. “Is that your problem? My social skills suck? Really?!”

“You say that but…” This time Arthur looked away. 

“But what?”

“... Nevermind.”

“I have no idea what you’re hinting at and I can’t do anything about it if I don’t have a clue. Work with me here.” Barry wanted to smack him. Conversations required actual information to be shared. Unless you were a telepath. Was Arthur a telepath? He hoped not, that’d be more invasive than Clark’s X-ray vision. 

“For someone with no social skills you sure have won everyone over.”

“Wait.” Barry took a moment to process that. The angry merman who happened to wear a green suit was also green with jealousy? No that couldn’t be what was happening. Could it? “You’re jealous? Seriously? You get that if you didn’t act like a macho asshole or get so blotto you can’t string two words together the Scooby gang would probably feel a lot more welcoming, yeah?”

Arthur grunted, and shifted back and forth. He then backed up and sat on the edge of the bed again. Yup, Barry had scored a bullseye. What was he going to about that information? No clue. He sure as hell wasn’t going to be a jerk to the team to make Arthur feel better. Might as well cover the nickname thing since Arthur was actually talking, “While we are getting real. Never EVER call me Tinkerbell or Tink again.”

Arthur looked genuinely confused, “What? It was descriptive. You move quickly leaving a trail of sparks and you lit the room up. It’s just like the castle graphic before every Disney movie.”

Barry tried to be patient, “I get that,” which wasn’t a lie. It did make sense and in other circumstances, Tink would be like Sparky. Annoying but tolerable. There was more going on here and Arthur needed to know, “But I’m gay.”

“Congratulations?” Arthur shrugged and looked even more bewildered, “What does that have to do with anything?”

Barry facepalmed, “And I have no social skills. Take a minute and think about homophobic slurs. You’re a smart guy you’ll figure it out.” Or take 4 minutes. Barry watched the minutes again. He would have interrupted but he could see the cogs whirring in Arthur’s brain by the movements his face was making. What would it be like to play a game of poker with him? Would his face movements give him away? Then Barry saw it start to click.

“I don’t...Ohhhh….. OHHHHHH…. Shit…. I’m sorry. I did NOT mean it that way.”

“Well look at that– you can say sorry without self-combusting,” Barry realized that he was out of line the moment the words had left his mouth. He needed a filter, especially when Arthur was sitting there looking genuinely sorry. Time to backpedal, “Sorry, that was uncalled for. I believe you and thank you for apologizing.”

Arthur grumbled as he stood up, “This doesn’t mean we’re friends.”

“Of course not. But I’m hoping it does mean we can go test these nifty gadgets with minimal name calling and yelling.”

“Let’s do this,” said Arthur as he walked past Barry and slapped him on the back. Barry almost fell over. Instead, he did an awkward wobble and tried to pretend he hadn’t been off balanced by the friendly gesture. The pretending would have gone a lot smoother if Arthur hadn’t started laughing.

-

Testing the coms with Arthur had actually been kind of fun. They had ended up playing a weird game of Marco Polo fused with Hide and Seek. It is possible that they spent more time testing than they should have. No regrets though. Barry felt like he and Arthur had made some good progress on getting along. Now he needed to pass along his results. He pulled a chair up next to Victor and flopped, “Test run was a success. Not sure what would happen if Arthur decided to hide in the Mariana Trench though.”

Victor thought for a moment and looked at some data on the console screen, “It might take a little longer but it should work even there.”

“Does that mean you’re done?”

“Essentially.” 

Since Victor was done they could talk. Finally. Barry had been trying to ignore the anxiety and confusion he had over the undiscussed kiss all night and day. In his spare moments, he’d been analyzing his own feelings. Rather overanalyzing. But he was pretty sure that butterflies, anticipation, and warm feelings mean that he had a crush on Victor. He needed to have this conversation because he had to know whether he needed to try and repackage those feelings into a friend zone envelope. He was hoping he didn’t have to though. People don’t normally kiss other people if they don’t like them. Well, unless you’re a small child, long lost relative, or European. But the European thing is the cheek kiss dance where you hope and pray you coordinate appropriately. Barry summoned his courage and went for it, “Sooooo……. Uh. Can we talk about the kiss thing?”

“Not now.”

“Not now?” Barry was going crazy. Twice now. Talk about hot and cold. ‘Cause you’re hot then you’re cold; you’re yes then you’re no’ and now he had Katy Perry stuck in his head. Great. For real though when was Victor going to man up and talk?! “Then when?”

“Right now. I,” Victor took a deep breath and looked at the ceiling, “I can’t. I have to get through tomorrow first. I’m sorry.”

Barry opened his mouth to unleash some sort of inquisition but was cut off by Bruce, “Barry. Victor. What is the com status?”

“All systems go.” Victor said as he stood up and headed for the door, “Now that my job is done, I’m going to go take a break.”

Barry wasn’t letting him be saved by the Bat, “I’ll go with-”

“No,” commanded Bruce, “Barry, I need your help on something.”

Barry watched Victor flee the room. There really wasn’t another word for it. He braced himself and managed to speak in a passable civil tone,“Fine. What do you need?”

“Take a seat.” Barry realized he had stood up and was standing by the door. He flashed back to his prior seat, “I’ve been reviewing footage.”

“Footage? I did not see a GoPro strapped to your batsuit.” What kind of footage could Bruce have? Were they going to go through a tactical play by play? Wasn’t that something football players did. Barry was in no way a football player and he was already aware he had the clutz gene.

“Footage of the team. I found some interesting things. You did Tom Cruise proud by the way.” 

“What? Oy. There are cameras in the rooms? What the hell man. Serious invasion of privacy.” Barry thought he had boundary issues. Turns out Bruce was in the Major Leagues. Frick! Frack! Now Bruce and Clark have seen him in his Pokemon boxer briefs. And Bruce has seen him dancing in them. Barry covered his face, but he was mortified. The only way to cover that would be to turn off all the lights and even then his blush would likely glow. 

“Chill. You can find the cameras and cover them in your room if you’d like. Diana’s already done it. I heard your conversation a minute ago with Victor, which, I assume was related to this.” Bruce pulled up an image of Victor kissing Barry. 

Barry gulped, “Uh. Yep. That.” Could this get worse? Bruce was a creepy lurker who’d videotaped him dancing in his underwear and apparently was going to interrogate him about an incident Barry hadn’t wrapped his head around yet.

Bruce continued, “He just shut down your conversation and you were going to go badger him.”

“Badger is a strong word…” Not wrong. Barry had been planning on cornering Victor until he got answers. He really did not do well with uncertainty.

“Not a question Barry. Stick with me. How much do you remember from before you fell asleep this morning?”

“So much puking. A lot of running. Youtubing IV’s and hooking Arthur up. By the way, I raided your fluid stores so you might want to take inventory.” Now that he thought about it, Barry was hazy on the details. He’d played it off earlier, but he couldn’t quite remember how’d he’d fallen asleep. Head in Vic’s lap no less. 

“Be quiet and watch then,” Bruce pulled up a video from early this morning. Arthur was back on his bed and hooked up to the IV to keep him hydrated. Barry was standing next to Victor and looked, shaky. 

Recording Victor spoke, “Barry I think your blood sugar is tanked.”

Recoding Barry shook his head, “Mmmm, I’m a fine. Is it fair for places to…. Chunky peanut butter or smoooth jazzz.”

Barry watched himself and realized the puking and constant sparking back and forth from the day and night must have resulted in a hypoglycemic incident. Which explained why Barry didn’t quite remember what he was watching.

Recording Victor walked over to Barry with a bottled apple juice from the mini bar, “Yup. You are severely hypoglycemic. Drink.” Victor held the bottle up and Barry weakly attempted to hold it. 

Barry drank half the bottle, wobbled, and mumbled, “Vic. I don’t feel so great.”

Victor caught him and walked him back so his legs were against the weird sofa bench thing along the wall,“No shit. Sit.” Victor placed the juice back in Barry’s hands, “Finish the juice. I’m setting you up with a dextrose IV.”

Barry finished the drink, “No shots right? I’m afraid of shots.”

Victor smirked, “Sure, no shots just an IV.” He rolled up Barry’s sleeve and got the IV on the third stick. He placed the bag on a hook on the wall above Barry. 

Barry dropped the empty juice bottle and pulled his knees up on the bench. “Not to… be lame… ::yawn:: I’m kinda tired.”

Victor sat down next him and helped lower Barry down so his head was in Victor’s lap, “Just sleep Barry.”

The video paused, and Bruce spoke up, “Note that you did not put your head in his lap or make him pet your hair. That, plus the kiss suggests positive feelings and likely a crush.” Barry just sat there and nodded. It was nice to know what had happened. He was also concerned about his lack of ability to manage his blood sugar. Now that he was using his powers more often he needed to make sure he had a system. Or that he wore a medical alert band in case he passed out in Central City somewhere. He pulled out his list and jotted blood sugar down. When he snapped the pen he began to process the interactions between himself and Victor. Barry was overwhelmed with a warm fluttery feeling. Vic had taken such good care of him and stayed with him instead of hooking him up and moving to a chair in the other corner of the room to monitor him and Arthur.

“Now remember exactly how he got his superpowers?” Bruce pulled up a still of Vic in S.T.A.R. labs strapped to a table. “Where is he going back to tomorrow?”

“S.T.A.R. Labs?” Barry was reeling. Heart goes down, heart goes up. It was a rollercoaster, but his brain was still following along with Bruce’s show and tell.

“Goldstar Barry. When he says he can’t talk right now– I’d go all in that it has to do with him focusing on making it through a day where he will be surrounded by reminders of what we can all agree was not a happy day. Let him have space.”

Barry thought back to when Vic had told the group about how’d he’d ended up a cyborg. The clipped sentences. What Bruce was saying had a ring of truth to it. It wasn’t what Barry wanted to hear though. He wanted to be through the awkward land of will they, won’t they and know the answer. Damn Bruce for being a perceptive creeper. Barry grudgingly agreed. “Alright... But I get your money if you’re wrong.”

Bruce minimized the stills and videos, “Now this,” Bruce flourished a piece of paper, “Is what I really wanted to talk to you about. But first, what is the fastest you’ve ever run?”

Wow. Ease a guy into a transition Bruce. Feelings to business in less than 60 seconds. Did Bruce think Barry was able to flip his feelings on and off like a light switch? The panic attacks should have clued him in that if Barry had some wonky wiring. “Uh. I’m not sure. I dodged a punch made by Clark...not sure I’m actually faster than him. It’d be cool to find out though. And, um, I can run on water.”

“Hmmmm.” Bruce handed him the paper, “Here, read it.”

Barry read the paper 10 times. It was an offer of employment in Central City. Not just any job. A crime lab job. The thing he’d been working toward for years, “Is this for real?”

“Yes.”

“You are so awesome!” Barry jumped up and did a dance. Bruce had already seen him dance in his underwear, so fully clothed was nothing. And this was an occasion worthy of a victory dance.  
“I’m finally going to be working in a crime lab!!!” 

Should he hug Bruce? Wait why was he asking that? Of course, he had to hug Bruce! 

“Get off me Barry.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Song Reference  
> "Hot N Cold" by Katy Perry (also the title reference...)
> 
> Media References:  
> Lord of the Rings- Ents

**Author's Note:**

> Minor typo edits happen as discovered. Thank you to all who have read through them!


End file.
